


Attestation

by katzengefluster



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Gen, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Ragnarok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katzengefluster/pseuds/katzengefluster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad Crawford has foreseen the end of the world, and it is Ragnarok.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in 2010 for a Weiss Day fic exchange on Livejournal, but never posted it anywhere else. Posting it here because I'm rather proud of it and it deserves to see the light of day again.

Feb 17th - 

_The sun is in the sky, fields of green grass stretch out before him. He looks up, smiling as he watches his herd of sheep graze. The air is warm, a light breeze tickles his cheek and sends his hair curling about his face. He glances down again and his fingers begin to pluck the cords of his harp, sending a cheery tune across the field. His heart feels full and light, he hasn't a care in the world._

_But then his tune is interrupted. He feels as though his heart has stopped, and he stares, transfixed with horror, towards the woods that lay metres from him. It cannot be. There must be some mistake, it must be some other creature, and not the one foretold. He drops his harp, stumbles towards the edge of the forest, listens and searches to see with his own eyes._

_And all the while that he searches the trees the rooster continues to crow._

He awoke with a start, sat up in bed and gasped for air, heart hammering in his chest. His fingers gripped the sheets as he struggled to calm himself down. Usually he did not feel emotion when waking from a vision. Perhaps then this had simply been a dream? 

Still he made himself get up and cross the room, entering his office. He sat down, took up his pen, opened his notebook and began to write. 

_Feb 17th, 02:31 – Appeared to be much larger than a human, almost giant sized in comparison to the herd of sheep I was minding. I played a harp, sat on a mound of grass near woods. Became bothered at the sound of a rooster crowing. I felt as though – he stopped, thinking. How had he felt? Nervous didn't really cover it, not from what he remembered. Distressed? Bothered? Upset? There was only one way to describe how he'd woke up feeling. He resumed writing – it was the beginning of the end of the world._

* * *

Feb 18th - 

_All he can hear is the loud howling of what must be a wolf. He presses his hands to his ears, he falls to his knees, he hears the snap of bindings breaking. He sees before him a monstrous beast, bathed in blood and looking through two sets of eyes! It continues to howl and he cannot get the sound out of his head, and he cannot stand, because his heart is too heavy with fear and worry and nervous tension because though he does not know why he feels suddenly certain that -_

He sat up suddenly in bed, gasped for air, heart hammering in his chest. His fingers gripped the sheets as he struggled to control his breathing, to slow down his heart rate. He does not feel emotions from his visions. Had he dreamed again? 

He forced himself up and towards his office, sat down again in his chair and took up his pen. He began to write. 

_Feb 18th, 02:31 – I watched a large wolf-like beast break free from bindings and howl loudly. He was tethered in front of a cave. I felt as though it was the end of the world. ___

He put down the pen, reading over his entry and then going back to yesterday and reading the similar one, noting the time. Neither entry made sense, and he did not feel as though either dream (or vision) had been of something he himself would experience.

He would keep this to himself for the time being. 

* * *

Feb 19th - 

_He lays on his back, eyes on the sky, watching, in horror, as the figure of a wolf grows larger and larger, huge as it approaches the sun. He is plunged into darkness as the sun disappears, having been swallowed by the wolf. He manages to tear his gaze to the side, watching as the moon shines for only moments before being swallowed by a second wolf. Stars disappear, and nothing but darkness surrounds him. His heart beats so rapidly he fears it may explode. His stomach is so full of dread he worries it may burst open. He is alone._

He sat up suddenly in bed, gasped for air, heart hammering in his chest. As his fingers gripped his sheets he forced his head to turn towards his bedside table, his vision swimming before him. It took him a moment before he could force his eyes to make out the glowing red numbers. 

02:31 

He did not know what to do. 

So he got out of bed and headed to his office once more. He would figure this out. 

* * *

Feb 20th - 

_He watches, transfixed with horror, as the serpent emerges from the darkness, mouth open and fangs extended, hissing and spitting as it nears him. He thrusts his sword toward the beast, but it does no good. He is swallowed whole. The serpent slithers on._

He forced himself to remain on his back, refused to give in to such base emotions as fear. There was no serpent. He was not swallowed whole. The world is not ending. 

Once his heart rate slowed he sat up and swung his legs to the floor. He looked at the clock. 

02:31 

He stood up and walked to his office. Once inside he sat down at his desk and picked up his pen. As he was about to write the front door to his office opened. Schuldig. 

“I expected you to be asleep,” the German remained by the door, looking as guilty as his adopted name. 

“I had a vision,” the American answered. 

“Of course,” Schuldig crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame. “Anything exciting?” 

Crawford looked down at the paper and pondered if he ought to share what he'd seen with his partner. “Schuldig, why are you awake?” 

The telepath shrugged. “Can't sleep.” 

“Why?” Crawford was used to the German's occasional bouts of insomnia, but knew there were specific reasons behind them. He wanted to know which reason was the culprit this time around. 

“Too noisy,” Schuldig ventured into the office fully, opting to sit in one of the arm chairs Crawford had arranged in front of his desk. 

Crawford frowned. “What sort of noise?” 

“What kind do you think?” It was the telepath's turn to frown, “don't lecture me, Crawford. I maintain my shields as best as I can, some days the world is simply unkind to those with my affliction,” the frown rose into a grin. “It's not that bad yet, I just can't sleep.” 

“I can't have you awake all night, Schuldig. I need you alert and focused during the day.” His eyes flickering from the German to the paper in front of him; Crawford finally began jotting down the details of his vision-dream. 

Schuldig was silent as Crawford continued to write, his eyes focused on the American. He could always worm his way into his mind, see if there was anything the precognitive was hiding from him. But he respected his partner too much for the time being. He would simply wait for an explanation. 

Crawford did not write for long, and once finished he laid his pen down and looked back at Schuldig. “We will be on detail tomorrow night, so it is vital that you sleep tonight.” 

Schuldig grinned again and stood up. A direct order to sleep meant only one thing. “Your bed or mine?” 

Crawford did not answer. He did not have to. 

* * *

Feb 21st - 

Crawford sat at his desk in his office, eyes on the clock. Schuldig and Farfarello had not yet returned from their duty with Takatori. He could hear the typing of Nagi's computer through his open office door. His eyes strayed to the clock again. 

02:30 

If he'd been having a vision instead of just a dream, would one hit him now, while awake? And if not, did it then prove that what he'd been seeing were nothing but dreams? Figments of his over-active mind? Schuldig and Farfarello would not return for another half hour. Nagi would be kept busy until they returned. 

He sat and waited, unable to concentrate on any of his other work. He watched the seconds tick by, the minute hand moving in slow motion, creeping ever closer to the 31st minute of the hour. And then it hit, and he felt nothing. There was no vision. 

Feeling triumphant he picked up his pen and began to write, safe in the knowledge that his nonsensical dreams were simply that. Dreams. He finished his paragraph and sat back in his chair, listening to the clack of keys. He pushed his chair back and stood up, leaving his office in favour of the kitchen. He saw Nagi at the table but did not speak to him. The boy was busily working and Crawford would not chance interrupting him for an update. Nagi knew to report to him the moment he was able to spare his thoughts. 

The American fixed himself a cup of coffee (decaf, at this hour) and returned to his office, glancing at the clock and taking in the time. Another fifteen minutes until the rest of his team returned. He sat his cup down on his desk and picked up his pen, glancing back down at his report. Just as he was about to resume writing his eyes strayed over the last paragraph he'd written. He read it in shock. 

_Feb 21st, 02:31 – I was a passenger on a ship made of the toenails of the dead. We sailed as an army, our future one of destruction and chaos. They know we are coming, and they know that our coming heralds the end of times. We are all going to die, some of us again. But we continue on. There is no other way._

He removed his glasses and dropped his head into his hands. How was this possible? How did he write a paragraph of a vision he did not even have? This had never happened to him before, and he had never heard of it happening to another precognitive. What did it mean? 

“We're back,” Schuldig announced from just beyond the door, barely giving Crawford time to sit up straight. “It was a success, of course, want to hear details?” Schuldig walked into the room at precisely the time that the American realized he'd forgotten to put his glasses back on. Schuldig would notice. 

“Only if you believe them to be important,” Crawford answered. 

The German sat down opposite him and glanced at his face. “Weiss was there, as you foresaw. There was no trouble, though. They were simply gathering intel. Farfarello did make a kill, not entirely necessary but he was becoming extremely restless, so I thought it was within all of our best interests if I allowed him the bloodshed. A suitable cover is in place, and I will ensure nothing comes of it.” 

Crawford nodded. “That is good.” Silence passed between the two. He knew Schuldig would ask, and he very well could not afford to ignore the question. 

“Which leads us to you,” Schuldig finally spoke, breaching the subject Crawford was waiting for. “What happened while I was out? I can see the stress on your face, not to mention I could actually hear it when I got back. You can imagine my nerves on the elevator ride up to the apartment, I thought someone had died.” He grinned and sat back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

Crawford was unsure how much to tell him. Perhaps it would be useful to have someone else knowledgeable of all the facts? He trusted Schuldig not to overreact. Perhaps he'd heard of something before while at school. “Close the door.” 

Schuldig fixed him with an intrigued gaze, knowing at least that something serious was indeed happening. He did as requested, standing up and walking to the door, closing it over to shut out the sounds of Nagi and Farfarello in the kitchen. He returned to his chair and sat down. 

Crawford began. “For the past three nights I have been having odd visions, ones in which I played a starring role, but not as myself. I was seeing through the eyes of others.” 

“Instead of being a witness from above?” Schuldig sat forward, intrigued. Crawford did not often share his visions, but there had been enough times for the German to understand how they happened. 

“Yes. I also awoke from them feeling fearful and anxious, and dreading the end of the world.” 

Schuldig whistled and sat back in his chair. “Strange indeed. You don't typically feel anything after your visions, aside from the occasional migraine, right?” 

“Correct. It's been so irregular that at first I was unsure if I had simply been dreaming.” 

“But you don't dream ever, do you?” 

Crawford shook his head. “I've never recalled a dream before, if I'd ever had one.” 

“But you're sure they're visions?” 

“Yes. I had one tonight, or at least I was supposed to.” 

Schuldig fixed him with a look of curiosity. “What do you mean, you were supposed to? Did you or didn't you?” 

Crawford picked up his notebook, handing it over the desk to the German. “Look at the entries highlighted in green.” He waited, remaining silent as Schuldig read them. After the last one he handed the notebook back. Crawford took it and returned it to its place on his desk. “The one from tonight, I wrote earlier. I have no memory of the vision, nor did I knowingly write it. I thought I'd been writing a paragraph of tonight's report, but upon re-reading it, found another vision instead.” 

Schuldig sat in silence, his thoughts racing. What did this mean? “So, you wrote about a vision without having ever seen the vision, and you weren't aware of what you were writing as you wrote it?” Crawford nodded once, and Schuldig pondered the thought further. “I don't like it.” 

“Have you heard of this happening before?” He waited in silence as Schuldig thought. It was not often that the telepath ever expressed concern. It was slightly discomforting to the American. 

“Yes. There was a time at school when I happened upon one of the scientists from the labs. They'd been conducting experiments on your type, testing to see which variables would force visions out. They tried a variety of different things, from drugs to food to restricting movement, restricting speech, anything you can think of. They had some success, but there was one instance that baffled them. One of the students began having visions without realizing them. He would simply sit at his desk and write. He never remembered what he'd written. Even when Schultz, the head telepath as I'm sure you remember, searched through this one guy's head, he never saw any of the visions in there. It was almost as though something was simply using the guy to communicate through.” Schuldig paused and regarded Crawford with an intensely scrutinizing gaze. 

Crawford frowned. “I don't recall ever hearing about that. What sort of thing was he having visions of?” 

“The Elders. He was the one who foresaw the summoning of the demon.” 

Crawford frowned. How had he never heard of this? Perhaps it had happened after he'd graduated? He had left the school a year before the German, after all. “When did this happen? Was I still at Rosenkreuz?” 

Schuldig nodded. “You were. It was kept very quiet, though. When Schultz found out that I knew, he had the scientist killed. That's how I got that scar on my back, actually. I was too important to have killed, so instead he attempted to enforce his control over me.” Schuldig grinned, as it clearly had not worked. 

Crawford nodded, still bothered. “So what came of him? Did they manage to figure out how he was receiving the visions?” 

Schuldig shrugged. “No idea, as you'd imagine I wasn't quite able to get any further information with Schultz breathing down my neck. As for the precog? He resumed his training as usual and went on to graduate. I don't think they ever told him what had happened, though.” 

“Really? And what makes you say that?” 

Schuldig regarded him with a funny expression, one that annoyed the American because it meant that the German knew something that he didn't. In this case, it was something important. “Ask yourself.” He stood up and made for the door. “I'm tired, so tomorrow we'll start researching these visions of yours. Tonight I suggest you get some rest.” He paused at the door, looking back at Crawford and smirking. 

“What do you mean, ask myself?” He had a feeling for what Schuldig meant, but had a hard time believing it. 

Schuldig retained the smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door. “It was you, having those visions. Don't you remember?” With that he winked at his partner before leaving the office. 

Crawford sat in his chair, not bothering to drink his coffee. He would not sleep tonight. 

* * *

Morning found Crawford still sitting at his desk, glasses on the table top, hands folded under his chin. He'd been embroiled in thoughts all night, contemplating what Schuldig had told him. If it were all true, then there was a portion of his education at Rosenkreuz that had been wiped from his mind, forgotten to him. This bothered him immensely, and the fact that Schuldig had kept it from him bothered him even more. He also contemplated the explanations for these unknown visions. He balked at Schuldig's explanation that it was a being of some sort choosing to use him as nothing more than a mere mouthpiece. Impossible. But what then was the explanation? It eluded him, and that concerned him. He was a man of explanations, of science and fact. He did not leave things to the unknown. He did not leave things to chance. 

A knock on his door brought him back to the present and he looked up. Nagi, with breakfast. “Schuldig told me to fix you breakfast when I woke. He said you'd probably have been up all night. I see he was correct.” The plate of food floated over to the desk, as Nagi remained by the door. 

Crawford was unsure whether he ought to be grateful or annoyed with the German. He glanced over the spread, nodding in appreciation. “Thank you, Nagi.” The youth remained by the door for a moment, as though there was something he wanted to say. Crawford glanced up at him, an inquisitive expression on his face. “Was there something else?” 

Nagi regarded him quietly before speaking. “He told me you might require my aid in research this morning as well.” 

Crawford frowned. He would have to speak to the German and remind him that though he was afforded the liberties of equality, he was not to express them quite so openly to the rest of the team. Still, that was a conversation to be held with Schuldig, and not one to contemplate in front of the Japanese youth. “I do. Come here.” He motioned for Nagi to approach his desk, and retrieved his notebook to lay in front of the boy. “I've been having strange visions lately, and the meaning behind them is unclear. I would like you to run a search and see if you can come up with anything.” He pointed out the entries Nagi was to consider, and was surprised when the telekinetic immediately answered. 

“Did you never study mythology in school, in America?” 

Crawford shook his head. “Clearly not, if these make some sort of sense to you.” 

“The crowing of a rooster, the release of the wolf hound, the sun and moon being eaten from the sky, these are all signs of the coming of Ragnarok. Norse mythology,” he added, when Crawford did not appear to recognize the name. “Doom of the Gods.” 

Finally comprehension dawned somewhat on the American's face. “Is it the end of the world, this Ragnarok?” 

Nagi nodded. “Yes. The world will be destroyed, and many of the Gods killed. Would you like me to prepare some literature for you on it?” 

He nodded. “Yes, Nagi. Have it ready for this evening.” 

The Japanese youth nodded and departed from the office, closing the door behind him. Crawford sat in silence then, contemplating this new development as he ate his breakfast. He felt much more calm now that he could make sense of the visions themselves, knowing that they were not simply nonsense. He still did not understand why he was having them, but he could work that out later. For now he would simply finish his meal and then find some rest. 

* * *

Feb 22nd - 

02:31 in the morning found Crawford seated at his desk, pen in his hand and writing. He'd had another vision, but this one had been of the usual sort. He'd seen the four of them disembarking a plane in some Scandinavian country, though he was unsure of which country it had been. They'd left from the airport only to take a car further north, and soon left the car behind for dog sleds. His surroundings hadn't been much help, for all he'd seen was darkness, all he'd heard was the crunch of snow. He thought he'd smelled pine, but he wasn't convinced with any level of certainty. 

He did remember looking up at the sky at one point, though, a bright and vivid display of colours drawing his attention. He assumed now that it had been the Aurora Borealis, but he would have to research that in order to be sure. He wasn't sure why they had been in the north, but he had felt as though they were going somewhere, and that it had to do with his other visions, this Ragnarok that Nagi had informed him of the day before. 

Perhaps these Norse Gods were real? He'd never been one to believe in religion before, but as Schuldig had so correctly pointed out to him as they reviewed the information Nagi had given him, 'If Eszett can raise a demon, why then can we not contact ancient Gods?' They'd all laughed at the comment, but the more he thought about it, the more he began to contemplate its possibility. 

He finished his documentation and laid his pen back down. He would research as much as possible into what he'd seen later today, and hopefully this time tomorrow would find him sitting here, documenting the remaining information. 

* * *

Feb 28th - 

Six days later and Crawford was making the final touches on their travel plans. As expected, each night had given him more details, more information. They were to go to Sweden and travel north into the region of Lapland, and there they would find a waterfall in the middle of nowhere. There would be a light rain, and then a rainbow would appear, starting (or ending, he wasn't quite sure) in the pool of water. They would jump into the waterfall and be transported to the realm of the Gods. 

Currently he was the only one who bore no doubts towards this plan. The others would accompany him (because they had no choice in the matter) but he knew they would refuse to follow him into the water. He had a plan, though. He always had a plan. 

* * *

Mar 2nd - 

“So tell me, all knowing Oracle, in these visions of yours, did you happen to see anything about food?” Schuldig sat on the ground, huddled in his down parka, arms clasped around his knees. 

“Perhaps we are meant to eat the dogs?” Farfarello offered, eye on their animals. 

“We are not to eat the dogs,” Crawford said, his eyes surveying the scene in front of him. They'd found the waterfall (or at least he thought it looked like the one from his vision) and had been sitting before it for three hours. He was surprised it had taken the German this long to begin complaining. 

_I'm trying to remain supportive before the team_ , Schuldig shot Crawford an amused look, clearly still in high enough spirits despite his complaints.  _You're clearly out of your mind, but we can't afford to have the others think that you're cracking._

Crawford shot the telepath a glare, choosing to not respond to the comment. Whatever kept Schuldig happy. He looked up at the sky, not seeing a single cloud around anywhere. He frowned, wondering if he should have consulted a weather forecast before coming. He'd been certain though that the rain would come as soon as they'd arrived. Perhaps he'd have to start thinking about food soon. 

_We could send Farfarello out to hunt bear_ , Schuldig offered, even his telepathic voice laced with laughter. 

_That could be an option, but you do realize that you would have to go with him_ , Crawford answered, glancing back at Schuldig, wearing a smirk. The German frowned and appeared to give up on that idea. 

_I suppose it was never an option anyway, since we don't even have any means of making fire_ , Schuldig added.  _You really weren't very prepared for this, admit it._

Crawford frowned again, glancing back at the sky.  _I was just so certain everything would be happening sooner._

_I thought you were a man of certainty? You're not supposed to leave things to chance._

Crawford did not answer. 

* * *

Mar 3rd - 

“I could try to make fire with sticks,” Nagi offered, for the third time. 

“Aren't you supposed to use string with that method? We don't have any,” Schuldig finally answered, lying on his back and gazing up at the sky. 

“I'm sure I could get them going fast enough that string won't be necessary.” Nagi sat cross-legged beside the telepath. 

“I guess it's worth a try,” Schuldig flung his arm over his eyes, tired of seeing nothing but white and light blue. 

“It's a shame you stopped smoking,” Nagi said as he sat still, staring at a tree a few metres away. 

Schuldig grinned and rolled over on to his stomach. “Unfortunate Crawford got that vision of me in the hospital with lung cancer.” 

Nagi glanced at his teammate in shock, though he did not deter his concentration from floating two sticks over. “You were going to get lung cancer? Are you sure you still won't get it?” 

“Is that concern in your voice, Nagi?” Schuldig grinned into his arm. 

“No.” The sticks fell before him and he picked them up, surveying them, though he had no idea if they were the type of sticks one used to wield fire. 

“Honesty before compassion, I've taught you well.” Schuldig lifted his head off his arm, watching as the Japanese boy tried in vain to get a fire going. 

* * *

Mar 4th - 

“Crawford, have you foreseen anything happening to me after eating these berries?” Schuldig held up a small bunch of red berries for the American to see. All he received in reply was a glare. Throwing them over his shoulder he moved closer to his partner and spoke to him in hushed tones. “Are you sure we have the right place?” 

Crawford stared around for a moment, glancing over to watch as Farfarello and Nagi attempted to keep the meager fire Nagi had been able to produce going. They were not close enough to hear the conversation. “I'm not sure anymore.” He dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his temples. Things were not going as planned. There had been no rainfall, and no sign of the celestial light show either. 

“Have you been having any visions?” Schuldig questioned, his concern mounting. He'd been wary of this plan before it had even begun to form, but he'd said nothing of substance to dispute Crawford's decision. Perhaps that had been poor judgment on his part. 

“No.” His visions had stopped occurring the moment he'd stepped foot here, and that was the only reason he had not yet contemplated moving. He was still convinced this was the spot. 

Schuldig frowned and fixed him with a piercing gaze, uncomfortable with the situation. “I'll be honest with you, your actions are worrying me. You used to be the sort of person who would flee any scene that caused your powers to disappear. Now that's the excuse you're using to stay. Are you sure there isn't some sort of greater power at work here, maybe Eszett? Maybe they want to get rid of us?” 

Crawford shook his head. “I've told you, I'm sure of this. It will happen, the gateway will open. If you don't trust my judgment, feel free to leave.” 

There was silence for a few moments, as the gauntlet lay thrown in the snow between them. Schuldig did not choose to pick it up. “Even if I did want to leave, which I don't, you know I wouldn't.” 

“But you could,” Crawford met his gaze finally, his face a stoic mask to hide the doubt in his heart. He was actually surprised that everyone was still here. 

“Of course I could. I'd choose to stay, though, even if it meant death.” Schuldig broke the stare, glancing at the other two. 

Crawford laughed, shaking his head. “How sweet your devotion is.” 

Schuldig grinned and looked back at him. “Don't flatter yourself, I don't know how to hook the dogs up to the sled, and I'm too proud to ask.” The American met his returned gaze and the two suddenly broke into peals of laughter, which caused their other teammates to stop fanning the flames of the fire and watch them. 

Crawford removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, still smiling. Just as he was about to speak he felt a drop of water on his cheek. He looked up, and noticed that the sky was suddenly darker. His hand shot out, gripping the German's arm. “Schuldig.” 

“Rain,” the telepath answered, his eyes also on the sky. They were silent for a moment, watching the drops continue to fall, as though fearing that the whole thing was just some hallucination. The rain continued to fall, and soon the fire was out and all four of them were watching as the drops hit the pool beneath the waterfall. 

Standing by the edge of the pool, his hood pulled low over his head, Schuldig glanced at Crawford. “I hope you're right about all this. I really don't want to die out here.” 

“We are not meant to die here, you and I. We have bigger feats to accomplish.” There was a strength and power to the American's voice that had been absent for the past day and a half. Schuldig watched him closely. 

“What are you seeing?” 

Crawford met the German's gaze, his lips turning up into a grin. “The future. Our future.” 

“You're having visions again?” Schuldig asked excitedly, suddenly feeling his own strength return. 

“The clearest visions I've ever had,” Crawford glanced back out at the water. 

“What do you see? What are we going to do?” 

“We are going to become Gods.” 

* * *

Mar 5th – 

02:31 

The rain had not let up since it had begun the day before, and all four members of the team were thoroughly soaked now. They had taken refuge under the cover of trees, where Nagi had once again managed to create a small fire. It had been a miserable night thus far, hours spent shivering from the dampness. No one spoke a word of complaint, though. 

Schuldig was sitting at the base of a tree, his thoughts stuck on Crawford's statement of future intent. We are going to become Gods. It was a wild statement, of course, and Schuldig hadn't been entirely certain at the moment if he'd been speaking seriously or not. He still had a hard time believing that there were ancient Gods to begin with. And even if they did exist, it was one thing to go against the Gods, and to plot and scheme to take them down, but how exactly were they supposed to become Gods themselves? 

His thoughts were interrupted by Farfarello nudging his leg. “Schuldig? There's a rainbow.” 

He stared up at the face of the Irishman briefly before rushing to his feet and standing at the edge of their dry spot, staring out at the pool, his eyes transfixed by the brightly shining rainbow emanating from within the depths of the pool. Instead of forming the typical arc across the sky, this one appeared to shoot up towards the heavens, it's long fingers reaching up into the midst of the suddenly twinkling Aurora Borealis. “No kidding, there really is a rainbow.” 

“Was there any doubt?” Crawford appeared behind them, a smug look on his face. 

“What do we do now?” 

There was silence for a moment, before Crawford spoke. “Now we jump in, of course.” He strode out towards the pool, leaving the other three to watch him from under the trees. A minute passed before Schuldig spoke. 

“And now we jump in.” Though he still thought it was a ridiculous idea that was likely to lead to their deaths, he left the cover of the trees and followed Crawford to stand beside the pool, knowing that the other two would follow. 

“Are you actually serious?” Nagi quickly cut in, rushing out from under the trees and grabbing the German's arm. “You expect us to jump into frigid water after freezing for three days? I know Crawford has been affected by these visions, but have you gone mad too?” 

Schuldig grinned, not surprised by Nagi's outburst. “Not mad. Just curious,” he winked at the Japanese youth before prying Nagi's fingers from his arm and following Crawford. Nagi stood rooted to the spot, shaking his head in disbelief. Farfarello stopped near him. 

“If it makes you feel better, I share your concern.” The Irishman stood still, his eyes following the other two as they made their way to the water.

Nagi crossed his arms over his chest. “If you're the only other sane one in the group, then no, it does not make me feel better. Just because some beam of light is shooting down from the sky into a pool of water, it does not mean we should jump in. If anything I'm more inclined to stay away.” 

Farfarello shrugged and left the telekinetic behind, walking towards the water. “Regardless of how stupid this seems, I will still follow Crawford. Perhaps we are meant to die, and will be fulfilling our destinies in death.” 

“You're willing to kill yourself in order to test Crawford's crazy theory?” Nagi hurried to catch up to Farfarello, still not intending to jump into the water, but meaning to plead one final time with the others. 

“Of course. If this is nothing but craziness, then at least my death shall make God the Deceiver weep like a maiden who has lost her lover.” 

Nagi huffed in annoyance, “you're obviously still no saner than before.” 

“Four deaths will make Him weep tears such that will flood the Heavens.” 

“What do you mean, four deaths?!” 

Farfarello glanced at Nagi, teeth bared in a vicious smile. “You cannot survive by yourself in these conditions, so you will follow us into the water. The sooner you accept your sacrifice, the quicker you will be at ease with your decision.” 

Nagi glared at the Irishman, who smiled back at him. Nagi broke the stare-down off, pushing past Farfarello angrily and joining the other two by the water. “Just for the record, Crawford, I think this is suicide. Had I known that this was your plan, I never would have come.” 

“Precisely why he didn't tell us about this part,” Schuldig grinned down at Nagi. “Isn't that right?” 

Crawford nodded, eyes still on the water. “Correct. Have I ever led this team astray, Nagi?” 

Clearly surprised at the direct question, Nagi frowned and hesitated before answering. “No, but you must admit that you've never suggested anything quite so farfetched.” 

“You have a point. Regardless, as my subordinate you will follow my command.” 

Nagi stood, rooted to the spot, his eyes on the lights. “If I refuse?” 

Crawford turned his head, his eyes on the telekinetic. “You will not refuse.” 

Nagi shook his head, “this is madness, and I should have spoken up before. If any of you jump into the water, I will pull you back out. I won't allow you to be subjected to this insanity.” He turned suddenly and took a step towards the trees. In a flash of movement Crawford rounded on him and delivered a sharp jab to the back of the boy's head, catching Nagi as his legs gave out and he fell. 

“Did you just knock the kid out?” Schuldig stared in shock at Crawford, his eyes large as he watched the American pick Nagi up in his arms. “Was that really necessary?” 

Crawford turned to face Schuldig, his face a mask of stone. “Yes. He was not going to come, and it is vital that he comes. Don't worry, though. He will wake once we have crossed.” 

“Crossed what? Where are we going?” Schuldig's expression was still one of shock. The American's actions clearly shook him. 

“To Asgard, the realm of the Gods.” Schuldig and Farfarello watched as Crawford approached the pool, his feet standing on the edge. “I will jump first, and the two of you will follow. If you do not follow and remain here, then you will meet your deaths.” 

“Have you seen that?” Schuldig asked sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I have seen everything.” That said, the German and the Irishman watched as the American jumped into the water, clutching the Japanese youth in his arms. To their utter shock, instead of sinking to the bottom of the pool, or being drawn into the base of the waterfall, Crawford and Nagi seemed to disappear, as though they were wisps of smoke blown by the wind. 

“What do you think, Farfarello?” Schuldig glanced curiously to the side, his eyes on the Irishman. 

Farfarello gazed with interest at the water, his eyes following the rainbow up to the stars. “Perhaps this is my destiny. Perhaps this is my path to take in order to reach He who has brought the world nothing but pain and sorrow. I will jump.” Without so much as a second glance back, the Irishman jumped into the water, leaving Schuldig to watch as he, like the two before him, seemed to disappear. The look on Farfarello's face as his body dissipated into specks was rapturous, and instead of calming the German, it unnerved him. 

He looked around him at the darkness of the scene, a lump forming in his throat as he realized he was alone. When had they lost the sled dogs? He hadn't noticed their lack of presence. He looked back at the water, a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. He realized that, for the first time in a very long time, he was afraid. Where would this road lead? Whom would he meet along the way? 

He did not want to die. 

But more than that, he realized, he did not want to be left alone. So he jumped into the water, and felt nothing. 

* * *

Mar 6th - 

Looking around, Schuldig realized that he must have been the first one to wake. He saw the three other members of his team still asleep, laid out on beds. He sat up and placed his feet on the floor, looking around the room. Where were they? The place seemed fairly ornate, kind of fancy. He looked out the window and saw nothing but lush green trees flanking the side of a mountain. This definitely was not Lapland. 

He sat still, listening around him for voices. To his surprise he heard nothing. Was the owner of this place perhaps not around? 

“I am indeed around, mortal.” 

Schuldig looked over his shoulder, surprised and shocked at the sudden voice. More so, however, he was shocked that this person had heard him. He hadn't been projecting his thoughts, had he? 

“How did you hear me, stranger?” He looked the man over, a little shocked at his appearance. Tall and strong, handsome and clad in ancient attire that did little to cover the body, he certainly looked the part of an ancient God. 

The man smiled, as though he found the question amusing. “I hear everything, mortal. Now, if you wouldn't mind following me, I would very much like to speak with you.” He stood at the door, his eyes on Schuldig. 

The German did not get up. “I really think you'd be better off speaking with that guy over there,” he pointed to Crawford, “he's the only one who really knows anything.” 

The stranger smiled again. “No, mortal, it is you with who I wish to speak. Follow me.” With that he turned and began walking down the hall, and without really meaning to, Schuldig found himself suddenly racing out the door to catch up to him. 

“Where are we?” He asked, falling into stride beside the god-like man. His eyes scanned the walls and showed him further bits of extravagance and elegance. 

“You have just crossed the Bifrost Bridge, mortal. You are in Asgard, the realm of the Gods. Surely you knew where you were headed when you took this path?” His voice was warm and sounded a little like laughter, as though he were privy to some private joke. 

“I knew, I just didn't believe.” 

They rounded a corner and crossed through a wide doorway, and Schuldig found himself in a comfortable looking sitting room. There was a fire crackling and he instinctively made his way towards it, taking a seat on one of the plush chairs before it. He'd never sat in such a comfortable piece of furniture before in his life. 

“What's your name?” He called out in question, his head turning to find out where the other man had gone. 

“I am Heimdall, mortal, keeper of the bridge. You are in my mountain hall, where you shall remain until I decide what's to be done with you.” Heimdall had been standing before a large cabinet, withdrawing two glasses and a jug of some amber liquid which Schuldig hoped was something strong. He approached the telepath and sat opposite him. “A glass of mead, mortal?” 

Schuldig nodded, accepting the offered glass. He sniffed it before taking a sip, surprised to find that it tasted better than anything he'd ever had before. “Are you a God, Heimdall?” 

“Of course,” he replied, a smile on his lips as he took a sip of his own glass before sitting back in his chair. “What is your name, mortal?” 

Schuldig watched him, intrigued. Was he dreaming, perhaps? Could this possibly be real? To his surprise Heimdall laughed. 

“You are not dreaming. Have your lips not tasted my finest mead? Did you not rest your body upon the comfort of my guest bed? Are you not now sitting before the warmth of my fire? Why is it the way of the mortal to doubt such realities?” 

Schuldig took a moment before answering. “How can you read my thoughts?” 

Heimdall smiled again and took another sip. “I've told you, mortal, I hear everything.” 

“But I'm not projecting my thoughts out to you, they're only in my head.” He regarded the God carefully, curious as to whether this being also possessed the power of telepathy. 

“I hear everything. I hear blades of grass grow, I hear the sheep as it grows fur. I hear the snake as it sheds its skin, and so I hear you, as you ponder inside your head.” 

“Are all Gods possessed with this ability?” Schuldig raised his glass, taking another sip of the drink. 

“No, only myself. They have other powers.” Heimdall paused to take another sip, still regarding Schuldig. “And now, mortal, if you would not mind telling me your name?” 

“Schuldig,” he answered, before taking another sip. 

“I meant your real name,” Heimdall replied, fixing the German with a slightly scrutinizing stare. 

Schuldig clutched at his glass more tightly, his body tensing. “If you know that is not my real name, then aren't you able to find my real name for yourself?” 

Heimdall shook his head and smiled once more. “I only hear those thoughts you think, Schuldig. I can not hear the ones you do not think. Now, tell me your real name.” 

Schuldig felt a lump forming in his throat, and he took a hasty sip of mead to try and clear it. He could not clear it, though, and ending up spitting the mouthful out at his feet, coughing in order to draw breath. All through his struggle the God sat in silence, watching him, waiting. When he was finally able to swallow again, Schuldig met those watchful eyes, and knew that he could not lie. “It's been so long since I've used my real name, that I don't even remember it.” 

Heimdall nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Why did you take upon yourself this name?” 

“Out of shame,” he replied, “out of guilt.” His hands began to shake so that he set his glass on the table for fear of spilling more. 

“What did you do?” 

Schuldig did not want to remember, and he did not want to answer. But he could not ignore. “I killed my parents,” he replied, and was surprised to find that after making the admission, his nerves dissolved. He glanced at the God and was surprised to find him grinning. “What did you do to me?” 

Heimdall laughed, then, and took a lengthy sip of mead. “I did nothing. You are simply bound by your station, mortal, to always answer truthfully. The more you protest, the worse you will feel.” 

Schuldig picked his glass back up and sat back, contemplating the revelation. He was surprised when Heimdall suddenly rose from his chair. 

“Please remain seated, Schuldig. I have just heard that one of your teammates has woken.” He moved swiftly from the room and once he was gone Schuldig reached out. 

_Crawford? Are you awake?_

_I just woke up, where are you?_

_Down the hall. Listen, this guy coming to see you, he can hear our thoughts, so he's hearing this right now. Just wanted to let you know._

_Thank you._  Just like that Schuldig was once again surrounded by silence, as Crawford cut off their mental connection. He wondered briefly what the God would think of the warning, and answered the inevitable question by blaming it on a life time spent doubting the intentions of others and always striving to have the upper hand. He hoped Heimdall would not take offense to it. 

Suddenly from down the hall Schuldig heard laughter, and wondered if the laughter was in relation to his worries of offending the God, or if Crawford had done something. He would have his answer soon, regardless. For now he simply took another sip of mead and closed his eyes, enjoying the comforts of the sitting room. 

Not long passed before he heard footsteps in the hall and soon saw Crawford emerging into the room, followed by the God, who went to the cabinet and withdrew a third glass. Crawford sat down on Schuldig's other side. 

“And to think, you doubted me,” Crawford spoke softly, turning his head to look at Schuldig. The German grinned back at him and shrugged. 

“You should try the mead, Crawford,” was Schuldig's only reply. 

“Yes indeed, mortal, my mead is renowned for being the best in all of Asgard,” Heimdall approached the American and handed him a full glass. “Drink and be comfortable while I ask a few questions.” 

Crawford accepted the glass with a nod of thanks and sank back comfortably, entranced by the warmth of the fire the same way that Schuldig had been. He turned his head to look at the God. “I assume you are Heimdall, guardian of the Bifrost Bridge?” 

Heimdall nodded. “You are perhaps versed in our lore, mortal?” Crawford nodded, and Heimdall smiled. “What is your name?” 

“Brad Crawford,” he answered, taking a sip of mead. It was indeed of a brilliant palate. 

“Why does Schuldig refer to you as Crawford, and not Brad?” Heimdall sat regarding the humans, watching them curiously to gauge their interaction. 

“That is the way we operate.” 

“Is this the way of all mortals? You must forgive my curiosity, for I do not meet many of you,” Heimdall smiled. 

“There is nothing to forgive, we are delighted to answer any questions. In our society deference is shown by utilizing the last name.” Crawford was measured in his response, giving not necessarily what the God asked, but what he thought the God was seeking in knowledge. 

“I see. I noticed that you communicated through thought, earlier. I was not aware mortals possessed that ability,” Heimdall again regarded them curiously. 

Crawford smiled. “Ah, but you see, we are not what you would call typical of our race. We are part of an elite group who possess skills and abilities far beyond the normal reach of the mortal mind.” 

Heimdall placed his glass on the table and leaned forward. “What are these abilities you speak of?” 

Crawford was silent a moment before answering. “Schuldig is the one who communicates through the mind. Not only able to hear thoughts, he is able to read the remainder of the mind as well, even those parts that attempt to lay hidden.” 

At this Heimdall focused on the German. “Is this why you were surprised when I was not able to delve further into your mind earlier? Because you are able to?” Schuldig nodded, but did not say more. Now that Crawford was here, he was content to keep his mouth shut for the most part. “I see, that is interesting. Continue on, Brad Crawford.” 

“The youngest of our group, Nagi Naoe, is able to move objects with the power of mind alone.” 

“Is there any limit to his strength?” Heimdall asked, intrigued at the prospect. He had never heard of this particular power before. 

“None that we have found, and he grows only stronger with age. The other of our group, Farfarello, does not necessarily have any specific ability, but he is unable to feel pain.” 

“Unable to feel pain? Does he have any limits?” 

“None that we have found. He will stand and fight until his body is so broken that death is the only cure, and even then he will not understand why he is unable to continue. I myself have seen him stand on broken legs with no complaint, no notice.” 

Heimdall nodded, taking the information in. “I see, a warrior that will only break when Death himself comes to claim his body. Intriguing. And now, Brad Crawford, tell me about you.” 

Crawford nodded, taking a sip of mead before continuing. “I am possessed of visions of the future. I see all that is to come.” 

Heimdall sat up straight, sipping from his own glass as he quietly surveyed the American before speaking. “So you know then of what is to come?” 

“I have seen the events that would lead to the destruction of all worlds, yes.” Further moments of silence stretched out as Heimdall contemplated the information. Finally he spoke. 

“What is your purpose in coming here, then?” 

It was Crawford's turn to allow silence to swell between them before answering. “I do not wish to see the end of my world, thus I have come to offer our aide to the Gods.” 

Schuldig was surprised when Heimdall did not laugh. Instead the God appeared to ponder the offer, sitting back in his chair and watching the mead in his glass swirl as he shook it. Minutes passed, the only sound that of the fire crackling, and the American and the German sat side by side, waiting eagerly for the response of the God. Finally Heimdall answered the offer. 

“I cannot allow you to continue on without ensuring you are worthy. Thus you must remain here, with me, for a period of time. I will set you tasks, and I will determine how well you accomplish them. Your results will determine if I allow you to continue on. Do you accept?” 

Crawford did not wait. “I accept.” 

“Then you will remain here as my guests. When you are finished your glasses, please see to the other members of your team. When they are awake, I bid you all join me for breakfast, you will find my dining room to be just a little further on down the hall. I will leave you now, and meet you then.” With that he finished his glass and left it on the table, before departing the room. 

Crawford and Schuldig did not speak. 

* * *

“It is impossible, I refuse to believe we are being housed by a God,” Farfarello sat on the edge of his bed, a strange feeling growing in his stomach. “There is only one God.” 

This was a problem Crawford had not foreseen, and it was one he currently could not think of how to fix. 

Schuldig, however, had anticipated it.  _We can't let him meet Heimdall, not like this. Let me go in there and mess around a bit, see if I can't shut that part of him off for the time being._

Crawford frowned.  _No. I can't risk that chance. It would be wise, though, if you spoke with him and stressed the importance of our situation._

“Are you speaking about me? What are you deciding?” The Irishman stood up, clearly agitated. He began to pace the length of the room, an action that caught all three other members of Schwarz off guard. It was highly uncharacteristic behaviour for him. 

“Farfarello?” Schuldig approached him, immediately diving into the other man's mind. 

“We are supposed to be in the Heavenly realm of our Father, so that I may go forth to meet him and deliver the world from his injustice once and for all. With my knives I will pierce his heart, shredding it into six billion strips, one for every soul on earth who has been affected by his treachery!” Farfarello withdrew his favored knife, shaking slightly now. “You speak of false Gods, Crawford! There is only one God, and I was selected as his executioner!” 

Just as Farfarello made to lunge at the American, he was stopped suddenly in mid stride. Nagi forced him back to his bed, and did not release him from the telekinetic bonds he was chained with. His eyes were on Crawford, though, and the Japanese youth was not pleased. He did not speak, though, for there was no need. 

“What are we going to do, Crawford? Clearly, he can't be allowed near any of the Gods.” Schuldig stood before the bed, his arms crossed while he looked down at the Irishman. Though Farfarello was still as a stone, it was obvious to anyone who looked at his face that he was trying to fight Nagi off. 

Crawford did not answer right away, instead he studied Farfarello, contemplating his possibilities. There was no point in attempting to cover this up – no doubt Heimdall was hearing everything. Finally he spoke. “Farfarello, did you ever stop to think that perhaps your God is here? Maybe he has been lying all along about the existence of other Gods. Maybe they are more powerful than he is, and they gave him our world to rule to assuage his wounded pride.” 

Farfarello took in Crawford's comments in silence, contemplating them before speaking. “That would not be below him. He has already proven he is capable of lies and deceit, now is the completion of the cycle! I must find him. Release me, Nagi!” 

Crawford shook his head. “Not yet, Farfarello. I am certain you will find your God here, but you must not kill him right away.” The Irishman shot the American a murderous glare, but it did not deter him in his decision. “You will kill him eventually, but you must wait until I give you permission. It is vital that he remains living for just a little while longer.” 

Farfarello did not answer, but Crawford knew he would comply. 

* * *

Apr 4th - 

The past weeks had flown by in a blur to Schuldig, who hated keeping track of time. He did not know the date, nor did he want to. Every day was the same day, the same actions, the same results. Though it sounded monotonous, the time still passed quickly and the days did not drag. They woke at dawn, breakfasted with Heimdall, worked around the palace, then ate lunch with the God. After the second meal of the day they were separated, and given individual tasks. Schuldig sat with the God for at least two hours a day, trolling through his memories, writing out his history. At first he had assumed the God was simply doing it in order to ensure he was telling the truth about his telepathy. But now, after weeks of writing, he assumed that perhaps the deity was looking to publish a memoir. He scowled at the thought – if he'd known he'd be coming here to work as an author, he'd have stayed home. 

His job was still better than others, though. Heimdall had Nagi spend hours a day carving into the rock of the mountains, hollowing out caves and grinding stones all with his mind. Farfarello was subjected to beatings and poisonings and nearly severed limbs – all of which were healed during the night by some goddess who'd shown up on the second day. None of them spoke to her, they didn't even see her around the palace. 

He wasn't sure what Crawford was doing, though, and he didn't bother going into either man's mind to find out. He assumed the American was plotting out how the end of the world would occur with Heimdall, and that would only be all too simple for the precognitive, since he'd forced out every vision he could muster before they'd come here. 

It was the evening now, and Crawford was still busy with the God. He and Nagi had dined alone at supper (Farfarello never joined them until morning of the following day) and now Schuldig was sitting by the fireplace, drinking mead, as he did every night. It had taken him a while to get used to the idea of someone overhearing every thought he had, and over time he'd learned to simply sit and not think. His eyes stared blankly at the fire as he tried to clear his mind. The invasion into his privacy bothered him, had touched him in a way he'd not felt since Rosenkreuz. There was no way to block Heimdall out, no wall that would hold him back. He often wondered how Crawford coped with that same vulnerability. 

“I wonder what they're discussing that's taking so long?” Nagi had entered the room, coming over to sit next to Schuldig by the fire. 

“Who knows? Hopefully it's how and when we're getting back home,” Schuldig grinned at the boy, and took another sip of mead. 

Nagi was silent for a moment, staring into the fire before speaking. “How does it feel, Schuldig? To have someone around who hears everything that you think?” Nagi glanced over at the telepath, his face a mask, but his eyes critical. 

Schuldig had not expected the question. “Is this your way of asking me to apologize for invading your mind all the time?” He wouldn't let Nagi know that, however. 

Nagi's lips curved in fractions, turning up ever so slightly. “It's rather unpleasant, isn't it?” 

Schuldig shrugged, finishing off his mead and getting up to pour himself another glass. “It's strange.” 

“It bothers you,” Nagi stated, sitting up to turn around and watch the German. “Don't deny it; I know.” 

Schuldig laughed, filling up his glass and returning to his seat. “And what makes you say that? I thought you were a telekinetic, not an empath.” 

Nagi smirked before looking back at the fire. “Because you stopped invading my head weeks ago.” 

Schuldig looked back at the fire, and said nothing. 

* * *

Apr 12th - 

“I have reached a decision, my mortal friends.” 

The four members of Schwarz each paused, forks in midair, eyes on the god. This moment was critical. 

“I have had you here for a time, I have gotten to know each of you and have been a witness to your powers. You know that we are coming upon a tough time, war is inevitable and doom is forthcoming. It is of my opinion that we could make use of you. I will send you on to meet with Odin, and allow him to judge you as he sees fit.” 

Four collective breaths were let out, and four hands returned four forks to the table. It was Crawford who spoke for them all. “When are we to continue on?” 

“Tomorrow. I will send word ahead that Odin is to expect you.” Heimdall continued with his meal. 

“You will not be accompanying us?” 

The god shook his head, and silence settled over the dining table. Farfarello returned to his meal, his thoughts on finding the one God he'd been sent here to destroy. Nagi also resumed eating, though it was only out of politeness. He still hadn't warmed to Heimdall's choice of food, missing the comforts of Japanese cuisine. Schuldig had picked his fork back up, but was only playing with his food, pushing it around on his plate, concentrating on what he was doing so he wouldn't start thinking. 

Crawford was thinking. His mind raced, though he was careful to keep certain thoughts under the surface, never allowing them up for air. He glanced across the table at the god. “Would it be appropriate if we were to make a sacrifice tonight?” 

The other three members of his team all looked up suddenly, shocked by the question. Schuldig spoke. “What type of sacrifice?” 

Crawford did not answer him, but kept his eyes on Heimdall. The god took his time in responding, chewing his veal thoroughly before swallowing. “Yes, I would actually expect it. You may construct a bonfire at the base of the mountain.” 

Crawford nodded, pleased. “And might we use a bottle of your mead? I think it would only be fitting, as your drink is the best in any land.” 

Heimdall smiled and nodded in agreement. “Of course, Brad Crawford, you may use my mead for sacrifice.” 

Schuldig still had his eyes firmly on the American as he listened to the question and answer period, confused. They were going to sacrifice mead? He supposed that wasn't so bad, though he'd been hoping for something a little more exciting. He was, however, thankful that none of them were going to end up in the fire. Heimdall laughed, and Schuldig met his eyes. 

“Were you worried that you would end up on the fire, Schuldig?” The god smiled and speared another portion of veal. 

Schuldig smiled and shook his head. “No, I was worried for Farfarello, actually. Being that he can't feel pain, I thought he would make the perfect sacrificial lamb,” he glanced across the table at the Irishman, who'd stopped eating and was staring at him. Schuldig winked at him, hoping Farfarello wouldn't take it seriously. 

“Don't worry, Schuldig, Odin will want to use all of you, or none of you at all. I believe it will be the former, however. You are all very powerful.” 

Schuldig smiled at the god, before glancing at Crawford and meeting his gaze. Those eyes unnerved him, though he couldn't quite figure out why.

* * *

It was dark as they stood around the bonfire, awaiting instruction. Crawford was the one who knew about this sacrificial stuff, so the other three simply watched the fire grow, felt its radiant warmth spread over them. Nagi had noticed the days growing colder as of late, and had witnessed snowfalls occurring in the distance. He'd wondered if this was normal, or if it was the beginning of the three winters? He didn't ask, though, since it wasn't really that important, in the grand scheme of things. 

He watched the fire dancing before his eyes, sparks leaping out into the air. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on one flame, curious if he could make it do his bidding. It grew larger, extending higher than the others, flaring hotter. He could not separate it, though, into a new fire altogether. He supposed there had to be some end to his ability. 

He glanced to his left, past Schuldig, his gaze settling on Crawford. The American was still silent, still had his head bowed, still clutched the bottle of mead. He wondered what was going to happen. Would he simply through the liquor on the fire and hope for the best? Would there be anything else? 

He settled his gaze then on Schuldig, watching the German watch the fire. It had certainly been strange, not hearing the usually omnipresent voice of the telepath in his head. Schuldig had changed, somehow, had become more withdrawn. Nagi wondered what task Schuldig had been given to prompt such a change. Settling his own eyes back on the fire, Nagi resumed his task of trying to separate a flame from the base. 

* * *

Crawford could feel flames licking at his face, heat searing his skin. Still he held the bottle of mead in his hands, his fingers pressing against the cool glass. He repeated old and ancient incantations in his head, called out to Gods he knew only by name, asking all for their favour, which he intended to return fully, of course. 

It took some time, but eventually he finished off his list, and then pulled the cork from the bottle. He opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and focused on the fire before him. Without speaking a word aloud he began sprinkling the alcohol onto the fire, watching as flames burst forth with every drop as though attempting to reach him, sent from the Gods themselves to claim and mark his flesh. He danced around them, though, always seeing their path before they leapt out, always aware of their direction. He was so entranced in his sacrifice that he did not notice the other members of his team, did not pay them any attention. 

He was lost in the fire, and lost in his own thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

Apr 13th - 

The day began the same as any other, meeting Heimdall in the dining hall, a quiet breakfast to prepare them for their journey onwards. Crawford did not think of the future possibilities, did not dare contemplate what lay ahead. There would be time for reflection and contemplation, but now was not that time. He ate his breakfast quietly, kept his eyes focused on his plate of food. Soon they would be leaving, making their way up the hill. At the top they would find their destiny. 

* * *

Before they left, Heimdall told them what path they were to follow, and what they could expect to encounter. He gave them food and mead for the day's journey, and bid them a fond farewell. That had been two hours ago. The path up the mountain appeared steep at a glance, but all four found it to be quite the comfortable journey. They did not speak much, but kept to themselves, their thoughts guarded. 

Nagi walked along behind the other three, his eyes on the dirt path, moving stones and rocks out of his way as he walked. He was conflicted about this whole thing, unsure of what it was, exactly, that they were here to do. Save the world? Avert Ragnarok? Bring it forth, but ensure the gods survived? There was never any telling with Crawford, the American's plans and secrets kept firmly shut up in his head. 

Nagi reached out mentally, bored with the walk.  _Schuldig?_  Though he certainly did not miss the near constant harassment he'd had to endure in living with a nosy telepath, he was slightly concerned for the drastic change this trip had created. It would be in everyone's best interests if Schuldig remained nosy, and remained on constant watch. 

Though he heard Nagi, Schuldig did not feel like answering him. He was so used to keeping his thoughts carefully guarded from the vigilant ears of Heimdall, that he did not wish to think at all. Speaking would require thought, and thought would prod and pry at the carefully constructed walls he'd created around his mind. 

When a minute went by without answer, Nagi frowned. Schuldig never resisted answering when called, even if it was simply to say that he didn't want to be bothered. Had he not heard, or was he choosing not to answer?  _Schuldig, if you don't answer me, I'll send you face first into the dust._ Nagi knew that Schuldig would realize that he had every intention of doing just that if he could actually hear him. 

_Fine, what do you want? Make it snappy,_  the German replied irritably. 

_Just wanted to make sure that you still work properly _, Nagi responded, and decided to drop the conversation. Perhaps he'd have to speak with Crawford about this. They were going to need Schuldig's ears in the coming days.__

* * *

They stopped for lunch, sitting on an outcropping of rocks. Just like the walk, it was a quiet lunch. Farfarello sat as far as possible from the others, his mind still reeling with the understanding of yet more lies and deceit from his God. It was not quite so farfetched, with everything he knew currently of God the Deceiver. To use his power for evil amongst his most devoted of followers, only to cover up for his own lack of power amongst his brethren? Farfarello could believe that. 

But it still stung, like a slap in the face, to know how deeply this deceit ran. He glanced at Crawford, wondering how long he'd known this, how long he'd intended to keep it a secret. The Irishman's blood boiled at the thought of being deceived by his own teammate. Though he'd always shown deference to the American, Farfarello had never truly viewed him as a leader. 

Turning his eyes towards the German, Farfarello then made a decision. At the end of everything, when they were finished here, he would kill Crawford, punishment for his treachery, and Schuldig would be chosen as their new leader. After all, though he'd attempted numerous forms of manipulation, the telepath had, at least, never lied to him. Farfarello would not tolerate following a liar. 

Crawford would die. Perhaps Crawford was God, masquerading on Earth? The thought struck him suddenly, and he fought to keep from flying at the American. Perhaps God had been thrown out of this realm, and had turned to Earth to search out a team capable of returning to his rightful home and claiming the throne of leadership? 

Farfarello would ensure his failure. 

* * *

An hour after lunch they were walking again, Crawford and Schuldig side by side, Nagi behind them, and Farfarello behind Nagi, his eyes trained on the American. He was not aware of the conversation going on about him. 

_I hate to burden you, but I just thought you ought to know that Farfarello has convinced himself that you're God, masquerading as a human._

_Really? What are his intentions?_

_He thinks you're here to take over, and he plans to allow you to do that, only to kill you directly after. Want me to fix him?_

Crawford took his time responding, contemplating what he'd heard, but was careful, because he knew that Heimdall would be listening.  _No. Leave him for the time being, he's not a threat yet. It will be better for us if he views me as his enemy, and not one of the gods we will be meeting._

_Clever. That's why you're in charge._  Finished with his report, Schuldig retreated back into his own mind, forcing it to become blank. He hadn't been actively listening for the Irishman's thoughts, but they'd become so intense, and so loud, that Schuldig had no longer been able to ignore them. But now that he'd alerted Crawford, he could go back to his own personal silence. 

* * *

Unlike the geographical structure of Earth, the higher they climbed on this mountain, the warmer it became. The trappings of winter were left below, and the warmth of sunlight heated their bodies. Just before they were going to stop for more food, two black dots appeared, coming ever closer. They were birds. 

Farfarello watched as they neared, his face twisting in a mask of disgust. “Deceitful ravens, no doubt sent to do the bidding of a deceitful God,” he spoke in little more than a whisper, his eyes focused on the birds. They landed on the branch of a tree not far from where Crawford had stopped. 

To everyone's surprise, the birds spoke. “From where do you come, travelers?” 

Schuldig and Nagi both stared, open mouthed, at the birds, each believing themselves crazy. Farfarello laid a finger upon his knife, his eyes glued to the birds. Crawford spoke. 

“We come from Midgard, and have sent forth by Heimdall to receive an audience with Odin.” He spoke calmly, as though speaking ravens were common where he came from. 

“I see,” replied one of the two birds. “If Heimdall has found you worthy, then the best of luck to you when you meet our Master.” The birds then took off, flying up and out of view. 

“Did you just have a conversation with two crows?” Schuldig blurted out, disbelief lacing his voice. 

“Ravens, Schuldig. They were ravens.” Crawford spoke as though it were no big deal, taking a seat on a nearby rock and pulling out the remainder of their food. 

“I don't fucking care what species of bird they are! They talked! Out loud!” He stared at Crawford, who continued to treat this revelation as unimportant. “Crawford, birds aren't supposed to talk!” 

“These birds do.” Pulling out an apple, he tossed it to Schuldig, who caught it easily. 

“And that doesn't bother you?” The German was concerned that Crawford wasn't showing even the slightest bit of confusion over a speaking animal. 

Pulling out another apple and throwing it to Nagi, Crawford shrugged. “No, it doesn't. Odin is reported to have two ravens who circle the earth every day, reporting back to him what they have overheard. Since they stopped to question us, I believe those are the birds. Huninn and Muninn, I think, are their names.” Pulling out a third apple, he threw it to Farfarello, who caught it but quickly threw it off the side of the mountain cliff. All three sets of eyes turned to him. 

Farfarello focused his gaze on Crawford, his blood boiling at the gall of this God, offering the fruit of Temptation and Sin! He would not allow himself to be deceived any further. “I will not eat your apple.” 

“Suit yourself,” the American took a piece of fruit for himself, “but in the future, if you do not wish to eat, simply return the food to me so the rest of us can enjoy it.” 

Farfarello glared, but did not answer. It would not be long now before he could exact his revenge. 

* * *

Though they had been gone hours, the sun was still in the sky as they finally arrived at their destination, and each stopped in their tracks, eyes glued on the magnificent building before them, roofed in silver and glinting light from the rays of the sun. Though there was no way of knowing, there could be no other dwelling fit to house the father of all gods. As they remained standing, staring in awe, a figure approached them. 

It was a woman, beautiful and strong, dressed in armor, walking with purpose in their direction. She stopped before them, regarding the group curiously before speaking. “Come, guests. You are expected.” She turned and led them towards the double doors, and they followed without hesitation. The sun glinted off her helmet, brought out strands of gold in her hair. She walked with an easy grace for one who appeared to be a warrior. 

They followed her through the entrance, into a magnificent hall full of light and air. They stopped behind the woman, who was about to speak. “Oh Father, I present to you, for your observation, the four travelers from Midgard, of whom Huninn and Muninn did speak of, and of whom Heimdall did offer his blessing.” 

She moved out of their way, and suddenly all four were blinded by light and fell to their knees. 

A booming voice sounded, filling every corner of the room with its power. It was not a warm voice, but it was not entirely unwelcome either. “I welcome you, travelers, to the hall of Valaskjalf. I am Odin, ruler of this realm and master of all. I have received word from Heimdall of your worthiness, and it is only for that reason that I have allowed you to come to my home. Your final judgment remains in my hands, so do not rest so easily yet. You have proven yourselves to him, now I demand that you prove yourselves to me. You may rise, mortals.” 

Crawford was first to his feet, looking up to see what form the ruler of Asgard took. He was met with the vision of a powerful older man, a little grizzled and seasoned, gray hair cascading in waves down his back, a beard that doubtlessly hid many scars. Perhaps most intriguing of all, though, was the fact that the man had only one eye. He wondered, briefly, what Farfarello would think of this, and hoped that Schuldig had picked up on the same potential for disaster. 

“Now, mortal friends, you will introduce yourselves to me. I have heard you possess special powers. I would like a demonstration.” 

As always, the American was the first to speak. Stepping forward and keeping his eyes firmly on the face of Odin (knowing that if he were to show even the slightest intimidation, it would not be in his favour), he spoke. “My name is Brad Crawford, I am the leader of this group and the one who decided to seek you out. I possess the power of precognition, that is to say I can see the future.” 

“And have you any way of proving this?” 

“Yes. Halfway through our discussion, we will be interrupted by a messenger.” 

Odin regarded him curiously from his spot upon his throne. “And what will this messenger have to say?” 

“That winter has settled upon Himinbjorg.” 

Odin frowned. “Of course it has, I have already seen that before you arrived. Heimdall knows that he does not need to inform me of happenings at his hall, that I will have already-” he was interrupted by the opening of the doors, as another of the Valkyrie entered and bowed before him. 

“My apologies for interrupting, Father, but there is a messenger sent from Heimdall who bids you receive him as soon as possible.” With that she turned and left the hall, and in walked a man who immediately fell to one knee. 

“My apologies for interrupting, my Lord, but Heimdall himself bid me to speak with you as fast as I could be carried here, and to achieve swiftness he allowed me to ride Gulltoppr.” 

This news appeared to bother Odin, whose face was creased by a scowl. “Allowed you on his horse, did he? Well then, speak, do not waste time.”

“He bid me tell you that winter has settled-” 

“I already know of this! I see all! Is there something else, or has he forgotten the power of my eye?” The God was quickly becoming irate, unsettled by the strangeness of this particular situation. 

“My Lord, he bid me to remind you that winter does not come to Himinbjorg. He bid me to remind you of the conversation you had when you last spoke in person.” 

Still scowling, Odin stroked his beard, remembering. “Of course, I remember the conversation. He worries this will signify the coming of the three winters upon Midgard.” He paused for a moment, lost in thought. Crawford took the opportunity to speak to Schuldig. 

_Have you been paying attention like I asked you to? Farfarello will not pose a threat, will he?_

_No, he is intrigued by Odin's one eye, but he does not view him as a target._

_Good. Now tell me what Odin is contemplating._

_Are you out of your mind? I'm not going in there!_

This was the answer Crawford had been worried to hear.  _I know Heimdall unsettled you, Schuldig, but you cannot allow that to turn you from your purpose here._

_I apologize for not wanting to put myself in death's way in order to save your ass! What if notices me in there? I'm not offending these people._

_Schuldig, I need you to listen in on him. He's not like Heimdall, he probably won't even notice you in there._

_But you don't know that!_

_Have you forgotten what it is I do, Schuldig? I have already seen this meeting, and you are not going to die today. Now do as I tell you if you want to survive._  Focusing his attention back on Odin, Crawford hoped Schuldig would comply with him. In reality he had not seen how this meeting would end, but he had seen scenes in the future, and Schuldig had often been at his side in those visions. If Odin did notice the telepath poking around without invitation, he may come to harm, but he would not come to death. 

_He's thinking about what those ravens of his told him after they returned from their travels around the world._

_And what did they tell him?_

_That spring has not come to our world, and that winter has settled over every continent. Huh, imagine that? Snowfalls in Africa! I'd like to see a snow Pyramid-_

_Focus! What are his initial impressions of us?_

_He likes Farfarello, he thinks Nagi looks shifty and runty, he likes my wild hair, and he thinks you're weak. He doesn't understand why you're the leader._

_I told you to be serious._

_I am being serious! He hasn't thought yet about you foreseeing this messenger, though. I'll let you know if that changes his mind._

Crawford did not respond, certain now that the German had been broken out of his self-imposed silence for the time being. He just hoped Odin would not notice the telepath sifting through his thoughts. The god finished speaking with Heimdall's messenger and sent him off. He then turned his focus back to their group. 

“How does your power work, mortal?” 

Crawford did not allow Schuldig's comments to interfere with his communication with the god. He would prove himself. “It varies. When I foresee big events, such as the end of all worlds, it comes to me in pieces, the reason for this being that I can record the details more easily. I can channel my power towards a single event if I know of it, forcing various outcomes based on potential actions.” 

“Oh?” Odin interrupted, intrigued at the concept. “So if we were to discuss possible courses of action to be taken in regards to our doom, you could tell me what the best choices would be?” 

“Of course. I am also able to channel my power while fighting, in order to give myself an edge over my opponents. I am able to see their actions before they strike, so that I may counter in time and know the best way in which to strike back.” 

Just as Crawford had hoped, Odin seemed impressed with this last bit. “Would you be willing to demonstrate this ability for me?” 

“Of course. Just tell me how, and I will demonstrate.” 

Odin thought for a moment, considering the possibilities. 

_He's going to have you fight one of the gods._

_I figured as much. Has his opinion changed?_

_Somewhat. He's starting to understand now why you have a position of power. If you manage to convince him of your physical prowess, he will consider you worthy._

Crawford was pleased with that answer. 

“I will arrange for something later. For now, we will continue with your team. You, with the orange hair, what is your name?” Odin turned his attention to Schuldig, who had to remind himself that Odin was not like Heimdall. The god would not know if he were lying. 

“Schuldig, and I possess the power of telepathy. I hear the thoughts of others, and can delve deeply into the mind, pulling out forgotten memories.” 

“Your power is similar to Heimdall, then?” 

“Somewhat, but it extends further,” he was quick to continue on, knowing that Odin would not consider him useful if he could have Heimdall fulfill the same tasks. “While Heimdall can hear only the thoughts one thinks, I am also able to hear the thoughts one does not think. I am able to see everything in the mind, every memory, every contemplated thought. But not only can I see those memories, but I can also erase and create new memories if I need to. I can also influence thoughts and decisions.” 

“I see. Tell me then, how have I come to gain my power of all sight?” 

Schuldig had no choice but to dive into the god's complex mind, searching and sifting, pulling at memories. Surprisingly it did not take him long to find the appropriate one. “Mimir's well,” he spoke, his gaze resting on Odin, “that is where you left your eye. It is also where Heimdall left his ear, and that is how he came to have the gift of hearing.” 

Odin nodded. “Yes, good.” 

“When Mimir was beheaded after the war, you received his head and now carry it with you, taking from it counsel.” This was a memory he'd had to dig for, one that wasn't readily available. 

Odin's eyes widened in surprise. “You are correct again. Tell me, mortal, are you a warrior?” 

Schuldig could not help but grin – he wondered what Odin considered a warrior in their present age? “To an extent, yes. I do battle with enemies.” 

“And does your power of telepathy aid you in battle?” 

“Yes, as it allows me to know what my enemy is planning. Beyond that, though, I do possess extraordinary physical skills. I am faster and stronger than the average mortal human.” Odin was impressed by this, and Schuldig felt at ease as he listened to the god's thoughts and heard only positive impressions. 

“Now we move to the small one,” finished with the German, Odin focused his sights on Nagi. “What power can you possibly bring to this group of warriors, child?” 

Nagi bristled slightly at the god's words, though he knew from research that these gods valued strength and power. Well then, he thought, he would have to do something drastic right away. Stepping forward he bowed to Odin, before straightening and speaking. “My name is Nagi Naoe, and my power is best represented through action and not words.” Without bothering to give it a second thought, Nagi concentrated on Odin, hoping the god would not be offended by his display. 

He pulled the god from his seat upon his throne, sending him up towards the ceiling and around the room, before sending him back to his seat and only seconds after sending a spear he'd crafted of silver from the roof hurtling towards the deity, who reached for his own spear to defend himself, but in the end did not reach it in time nor need it. Nagi stopped the spear mere centimeters from Odin's one eye. Leaving it there for a few seconds, he then sent it back to the roof where it reshaped itself. All through the show, Nagi did not take his eyes from the god. 

“I move things with my mind. I can break apart stone, I can manipulate silvers and golds, I can send a god to his doom. The only way to stop me is death, and death is an enemy I have defeated on numerous occasions.” 

_Way to go, kid, you're his new favourite now_. Nagi smirked at Schuldig's comment, though he was relieved to hear that he had impressed and not offended. 

Odin regarded Nagi with awe. “What warrior then needs the spear or the sword, when he can use his own enemy's weapons against him? Brilliant, this power of yours. The ability to carve and shape and remold the world around you.” Bestowing a last favoured smile upon the youth, Odin then moved his attention to Farfarello. 

The god was silent for a moment, contemplating the figure before him. “Your face, mortal, is truly that of a warrior. Tell me, what happened to your eye? Was it taken from you in battle?” 

“No.” Farfarello regarded Odin with interest, wondering if it was he who had cast God from this realm. “I removed my own eye.” 

“Why would you do that? Surely there is no access to Mimir's Well in Midgard?” 

“I took my eye to punish and anger my Father, in whose image I was made.” 

Odin regarded Farfarello with curiosity, his hand returning to stroke his beard. “What did your father do to you in order to receive such disrespect from his son?” 

“He is a deceiver of worlds, a liar and thief, purchasing from his subjects the gift of life and paying them back in naught but grief and sorrow. Many worship him, and the most devoted are punished the most fiercely.” 

Odin did not truly understand Farfarello's words, believing him to be the son of a tyrant king in some realm of Midgard. He did not realize Farfarello spoke of the Christian God. He was aware of false religions spread through the land, but did not recognize them when presented in such vague concepts. “What are your plans for your father?” 

“I intend to kill him, when the time is right. I will not allow further suffering for his people, and I will not allow him to go unpunished for what he has done to me.” 

Odin nodded, intrigued by this last mortal. “Tell me, mortal, what is your name, and how are you to be of service to me?” 

“I am called Farfarello, and I am the executioner of nightmares.” 

Crawford wanted to speak up, but did not want to bring about the chance of Farfarello reacting to his voice.  _Schuldig, speak up and tell Odin of Farfarello's power. I do not think he has ever truly understood the importance of his inability to feel._

Though he did not want to speak, Schuldig understood why Crawford could not do it himself. Bolstered by Odin's reactions to their powers thus far, he spoke up. “If I may interrupt, Farfarello is the ultimate weapon of destruction, for he does not feel pain. He has no understanding of that physical weakness. He fights with no regard for his safety, because he has nothing to fear. Injury will not impede him, for he does not recognize it. Death is not his master, as it is for many warriors.” 

Odin contemplated Schuldig's words, intrigued by the concept of a being who does not know pain. His eyes strayed to the one-eyed mortal again, taking in the sight of his scars. Surely this is a man who has survived many battles, and has much experience. He would be useful. “I now consider myself knowledgeable of your powers, and must convene with my brethren to discuss what we will do with you. This discussion will take place in the morning, so for this evening I will allow you to stay in Valhalla, with my warriors. There you may find good food, good drink, and good company. Now leave, for I have much to do.” 

* * *

Three hours later found Schuldig seated among many men, a goblet of mead in his hands, and easy conversation flowing from his lips. So many interesting stories in these minds that he did not mind entering, that he relished searching through. Some of these souls were very old, ancient in their ways and thoughts. The telepath enjoyed their minds the most, since they were so archaic and different from what he was used to. 

They were currently sitting outside in the courtyard, grouped around a makeshift arena pit. In the centre, preparing for battle, was Crawford. In an effort to showcase how his precognition aided him in battle, the American had agreed to a fight to be arranged by Odin. His opponent was still unknown to all – except Schuldig, of course. He wasn't sure if Crawford had forced a vision of the fight, and was contemplating telling him. 

_Crawford? Have you foreseen who you're fighting?_

_I have seen him, but I do not know his identity._

Schuldig smirked, taking a sip of mead and focusing his gaze on the American.  _Would you like me to tell you?_

_Yes._

Pausing for a moment to laugh at a neighbour's story and receive a refill on his goblet, Schuldig then returned to the precognitive.  _Does the name Thor ring a bell?_  Silence greeted his comment, and though Crawford kept his face stony and calm, Schuldig could practically hear him curse mentally from here. He was not worried, though, because he knew that if Crawford had foreseen any problems, he would have found a way around them. Still, he would pay attention during the fight, and keep Crawford informed of any potential trouble. 

_Schuldig?_

_Yes?_

_Make sure Nagi is around for this._

Schuldig laughed to himself – apparently Crawford had foreseen an issue after all.  _Of course. Anything he should be expecting to do?_

_Not yet, I'm getting conflicting visions. Just make sure he's here._ Schuldig took a sip of his mead and started slipping in and out of sound, looking for the voice of a young Japanese telekinetic. 

* * *

Having no interest in the fight, Nagi sat in the room they had been given, contemplating all that had occurred. He'd cornered Schuldig earlier and forced him to explain everything he'd overheard thus far. After hearing that Odin was interested in utilizing them to combat against Loki and the giants, Nagi had let the telepath go, but not before he promised to alert him the moment he heard anything else. 

Hearing footsteps in the hall, Nagi looked up in time to see Farfarello enter the room, looking bothered. Unaware of the Irishman's turn of feeling towards Crawford, Nagi assumed Farfarello was still simply bothered by the concept of there being more than one god. Watching as the Irishman paced, Nagi was finally annoyed enough to speak. “You look bothered.” 

Farfarello stopped, his head turning towards Nagi. “I am bothered. I thought you would be bothered as well.” 

Nagi shrugged, leaning back against his pillow. “I was more bothered before, but I've calmed down now and realized that being angry at Crawford for dragging me here unwilling will not do any of us any good.” 

To Nagi's surprise the Irishman's face contorted, looking even uglier than usual. “Crawford! He is full of nothing but lies and deceit, treachery for his most devoted of followers.” 

Nagi was silent for a moment, surprised at Farfarello's choice of words. What had the American done to him? “What makes you say that, Farfarello?” 

“I know who he really is, and I know what his true intention is here.” Farfarello said nothing more, and Nagi closed his eyes, fearing a disaster. He'd have to talk to Schuldig about this. 

_Talk to me about what?_ Nagi was shocked to hear the telepath so suddenly, having gotten somewhat used to Schuldig keeping to himself as of late. 

_Farfarello._

_That can wait for later, we need you out here._

_Why?_  Nagi rose from the bed, not bothering to speak to Farfarello as he left the room. He did not make for the exit, though, instead making for a balcony on the southern most tip of the great hall. There was a balcony there upon which he would be able to see the events occurring in the courtyard. 

_Not sure, Crawford just told me to ensure you were out here. I think he may possibly need you during his fight._

Nagi frowned and shook his head.  _I thought this was Crawford's fight, not mine._

_Part of his skill in battle lies in choosing his weapons, the most powerful of which happens to be this bratty Japanese kid._

Nagi could hear the amused tone of the German that he'd grown to hate over the years (usually because he only heard it when Schuldig was bothering him) and he considered telling him to go fuck himself. But it was Crawford who had asked for him, so he would ignore the telepath's jabs for now.  _Tell him I'll be on the balcony watching._

_Fair enough. Keep your eyes on the fight though, okay? We need Crawford to come out of this alive._

Nagi didn't bothering answering the last comment as he arrived to the empty balcony, taking a seat upon a cushioned chaise. The battle was set to take place some distance from the hall, but he could still see it well enough from where he was. He would wait for orders. 

* * *

“So, my mortal friend, they say you have the power to read minds!” 

Schuldig glanced to his right, meeting the dancing eyes of a man built for war. He smiled while sifting around in the man's thoughts, fishing out an identity. “I can,” he responded, while finally recognizing the name. Beowulf. 

“Then tell us, friend, how does your man stand upon our ground without trembling? Look at him, he is no warrior!” There was much laughter from the surrounding men, and Schuldig grinned in response. 

“Have you heard that he is gifted with the power of foresight?” The men nodded and Schuldig, still grinning, glanced back at Crawford. “Then you have your answer. Obviously, he has seen his victory over his opponent.” 

“But how could that be possible? Unless Odin has him fight one of the women,” at this comment the men exploded with laughter again, and Schuldig suddenly found himself anxious for the fight. It would be amusing to see their reactions if Crawford were to succeed. 

“Have you heard who he's fighting?” He posed the question, taking a sip from his goblet. The men shook their heads, and Schuldig grinned again. “Now, don't take this as certainty, since minds can always be changed later, but I did happen to hear that he would be fighting Thor himself.” 

“No! Is Odin mad?! I thought he wanted this mortal's life preserved!” Beowulf burst into laughter again, and Schuldig nodded. 

“It's true, I heard it myself.” He tapped his finger to his head, and the men laughed knowingly. 

“Ah, to be gifted with hearing such as you have! Tell us, friend, does it enhance your pleasure when bedding a woman? Are you able to control what she yells out loud?” The men laughed and Schuldig joined in, amused at the question. 

He was not able to comment though before one of the other men jumped in. “It's obvious, of course, why he asks! One need only to ponder why the great hero Beowulf bedded many women but yet none remained to become his wife!” Laughter broke out anew and Schuldig glanced again towards the center of the square, feeling a bit of pity for the American. But he supposed he'd suffered enough all those weeks under the oppression of Heimdall's hearing – now it was Crawford's turn to sweat it out a little while he enjoyed himself. 

* * *

“And so, men, it is with great pleasure that I announce this mortal's opponent in battle, the mighty God of thunder, Thor!” The applause was deafening, and Crawford stood calmly, watching as the powerful god made his way in through the crowd. He'd spent the past ten minutes forcing every bit of a vision he could, and he was still unsure as to how the battle would unfold. Of course he'd heard of Thor's fabled magical hammer, Mjollnir, but until the god reached him, he would be unsure if he carried it or not. 

He scanned the crowd briefly, spotting Schuldig sitting among many ancient warriors, looking quite at ease as though he belonged here. He did not, however, see Nagi. 

_Schuldig, did you call Nagi?_

_Of course, he's back at the hall on the balcony. I don't think he enjoys the crowds._

Crawford felt more at ease with the news. He was still unsure if he would require the services of his telekinetic, but having him near was enough. Finally Thor was free of the crowds and advanced towards the spot where Crawford stood. Glancing down, his eyes came to rest upon the hammer, and suddenly the American knew exactly what had to be done. 

_Schuldig, I need you to relay a message to Nagi._  He waited a moment, certain the German was listening.  _There will come a point in the battle when Thor will throw his hammer. Nagi must control it and make it appear as though I have caught it in my owns hands. It is heavy, so he will need to hold it up._

_Not asking much, are you?_

Crawford did not bother responding, as he knew that the telepath was in the midst of relaying the information. Instead he kept his eyes on Thor, who had come to stop before him, Mjollnir in his hands and a sardonic grin curving his lips. The fight would not last long. 

* * *

“Did you see the way he held up Mjollnir in his own hands! What strength he must possess!” 

“Aye, it is barely believable! A powerful warrior indeed!” 

Schuldig grinned and could barely keep from laughing. They'd all fallen for the ruse, even Thor himself! When he'd witnessed Crawford holding the hammer above his head, the God had cursed in anger and declared the battle over, conceding a victory to the mortal. After all, as Odin had told him, this was not a fight to wound the man, but to test him. If Crawford found a way to disarm him, he was to stop the battle and concede defeat. He wasn't pleased, though. No one had ever wrested Mjollnir from his hands before, and the fact that a mortal had been able to did not sit lightly upon him. 

Now Crawford was standing with Odin himself, a pleased smirk on his lips. Schuldig had still not bothered to congratulate him yet, so he now made his way over, bidding Beowulf and his new companions goodbye for now. He walked up to stand beside the American, nodding to Odin who was busy chastising Thor for losing the battle so quickly. He had a feeling the chastisement was being done in jest, though, for he could see the grin peering out from under Odin's beard. 

Thor still looked murderous, though he stood and took the verbal beating from his father. When Odin finished speaking, Thor locked eyes on Crawford. “I still cannot believe that a mere mortal possesses the strength to wield Mjollnir! There must have been some trickery afoot.” 

Odin clapped a hand to Thor's back and laughed. “A poor loser, my son! But I am also interested, Crawford, as to how you hefted the hammer? You did not tell me you had the strength of twenty men!” 

“I don't,” Crawford finally admitted, smugly looking between the two. “But do not forget what I do possess.” He looked pointedly at Odin, who suddenly roared with laughter and thumped Thor on the back again. 

“Of course! The boy! You had him hold Mjollnir with his power! An intelligent move, I must admit. If you cannot intimidate your opponent through strength of body, intimidate him through apparition! Very clever.” 

“But that's unfair! I demand a rematch!” Thor brushed Odin's hand away, scowling at his father. “He cheated!” 

Odin shook his head in amusement. “There was no cheating, my son, for there were no rules!” 

“But how does this prove his prowess in battle?” Thor returned his gaze to Crawford, his gaze calculating. 

The American spoke up. “In being able to see the events of our fight, I was able to ensure I had the proper tools with which to battle you. If there had been no outcome other than injury for me, I would have demanded an alternate way to showcase my ability.” 

Odin nodded again, pleased with the showing. “Exactly what was to be expected of you, I daresay. Now you may rest with your companions until the morning, when I shall meet with the others to discuss what will be done with the lot of you.” Odin bid them farewell and was followed by a still frowning Thor, leaving Schuldig and Crawford finally alone. 

“Congratulations, you narrowly escaped that one,” Schuldig grinned and took a sip of his mead. 

Crawford ignore the jab and instead grabbed Schuldig's goblet, taking a sip of mead for himself. “Thank you for your help, by the way.” 

Schuldig narrowed his eyes and gazed curiously at his leader. “You've never thanked me for anything before, what's wrong with you?” 

Crawford ignored the question and gave Schuldig his drink back. “I'm going to find Nagi, you may stay here if you wish, but we need to speak later.” 

“Plans for the future?” Schuldig was careful not to say much more than that, lest Heimdall was listening. 

“You could say that,” was all Crawford gave as a reply before walking away. Schuldig did not bother following him. 

* * *

It was the afternoon now of the following day and Schwarz sat around in their room, awaiting news from Odin. The god was still in discussion with the others about whether or not they would accept the aid of the four mortals. Crawford had done all he could the evening before, and now all was left to fate. In order to keep the peace, he'd ordered Farfarello to accompany the other warriors of Valhalla to the training fields, in order to test his prowess in battle. It would not do to have Farfarello around too much, lest he grow more irritable by the second. 

Taking advantage of being without the Irishman, Nagi decided to inquire as to the strange words of the psychopath from the day before. “Schuldig, I've been meaning to ask you about Farfarello,” he began, glancing at the German from his bed. “Yesterday, he spoke some very strange words about Crawford that left me a little unsettled.” 

“He's convinced himself that Crawford is actually God. Don't worry about it, though. We have it under control.” Schuldig winked at Nagi and resumed his task of listening to conversations around them in the hall. 

Crawford provided the Japanese youth with a better explanation. “We knew he would seek someone to take his confusion out on, Nagi. I've decided it's better that he focus his energy on me, than on finding fault with one of the other gods.” 

Nagi nodded, understanding that logic. “But it's best if we keep him quiet when around the ears of others, I assume?” 

“Of course. It would be easily explained, but we do not want them considering his instability to be a threat.” 

The two were then silent, and Schuldig could not help but grin.  _Don't think your little slip went unnoticed, Crawford._

_What are you talking about?_  The American's internal voice was a mixture of annoyed and confused, and it made Schuldig grin even wider. 

_You don't want Farfarello finding fault with one of the other gods, as though you yourself were already counted among the deities?_  Schuldig glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, watching as Crawford shot him the same half-look. 

_You know what I meant, don't twist my words._

_You always choose your words carefully, don't give me that!_  Schuldig smirked a little, turning his head slightly towards Crawford. 

Crawford met his eyes, and Schuldig was surprised to see there was no amusement in them.  _Remember who listens to us, Schuldig. Just because he is far away, that does not mean he cannot hear you._  That being said the American turned his head to stare out the window, and Schuldig felt his stomach muscles clench slightly. 

He had nearly forgotten Heimdall. 

_Perhaps you should lay off the mead until you get your priorities straightened?_

Schuldig glared at the back of Crawford's head, but did not reply. He would need to remain vigilant. 

* * *

That evening found the members of Schwarz seated at the dining table with Odin and his wolves, Geri and Freki, who happily ate the food off the god's plate. The meeting of earlier had gone accordingly for Schwarz, who were to be allowed to remain in Valhalla and aid the gods during the events of Ragnarok. Odin had taken a liking to all four members of the group, thus had found himself pleased when the other gods agreed with his plans to allow Schwarz to remain in Asgard. 

“I hear you fought and bested three men at once today, Farfarello,” Odin glanced at the Irishman, who was eating his pork with only two knives. 

He nodded to Odin while chewing a piece of meat. “They were of decent skill.” 

Odin laughed. “Decent skill, he says! If only I could replicate you, mortal friend, I would create an army so terrifying the giants would never dream of entering Asgard!” Odin threw a piece of meat to Geri, who snapped it up quickly. 

“Thank you,” Farfarello replied, watching as the wolf ate the food. 

“How are you finding Asgard, Schuldig? I see you have settled in nicely?” Odin shifted his focus to the German, who had finished his meal already and was sipping a glass of wine. 

“It's lovely,” he answered, “and I find these fresh minds intriguing.” 

“Good to hear,” Odin replied. “I would hate to think my warriors would not be accommodating!” He took another piece of meat before looking at Crawford, throwing it to Freki. “You and I must speak after dinner, Crawford. There is much we have to discuss, and the sooner we begin, the better.” 

Crawford nodded, setting his cutlery on his plate. “Of course, Odin. Whenever you are ready.” 

Odin nodded, and called to one of the women walking through the tables. “Skuld, more wine!” She hurried over, a jug in her hands, and filled the cups to the brim. Schuldig gave her an appreciative smile, which she returned to him before leaving their table. He could certainly get used to this sort of treatment. 

* * *

“You believe he has the power to stop them before they reach Bifrost?” Odin sat back, contemplating what Crawford was telling him. He'd seen demonstrations of the youth's powers and every time had found himself coveting them. 

“Of course, I have seen it. He will encase them in rock from the mountain base Heimdall had him working on. There are piles of it readily available for him to use.” 

“And they will not be able to break out of it?” 

Crawford shook his head. “No, they will not. He will hold them there, and the weight of the stone will not only crush them, but it will also prevent oxygen from reaching them, and if there is no oxygen, the fire they bring with them will die out, and they will pose no further threat to us even if they do survive, which of course they won't.” 

Odin nodded, understanding but still unsure of this whole plan. He decided to switch topics for now. “Now if I do grant you all godly status as you have asked of me, you said you will do something extra for me?” 

“Yes,” Crawford nodded, hoping this would be enough enticement for the god. “If you grant us that, we will ensure your son Baldr is released from Hel's prison.” 

Odin frowned and contemplated Crawford curiously. “And how would you do this? Others have tried before and failed. I do not know if my wife may take the strain of such further wishful thinking.” 

At this Crawford smiled and folded his hands in his lap. “You forget Schuldig. I will send him to Hel, and she will listen to him. If she does not, he will force her to comply. He could even make it so she forgets Baldr was ever sent to her.” 

Odin's eyes lit at the explanation. “Yes, he does possess power. Still, we'll not mention this to Frigg. In fact we'll not mention it to anyone. It will be our surprise to the others.” 

Crawford nodded and was barely able to contain his elation. “Of course. Now, how will we go about the process of the transformation?” 

“Leave that to me, there are a few things I will need to arrange. I believe I should be ready for the ceremony in a day's time, give or take. Will you make Baldr's return your top priority?” 

“Of course,” Crawford answered, “whatever you wish.” 

* * *

Schuldig had been sleeping when he was suddenly woken by a strong grip on his arm. He opened his eyes and glanced up into the face of the American, who was leaning over him on his bed. Just as he was about to ask Crawford what he was doing, the precognitive placed his fingers to Schuldig's temple, and suddenly he felt weightless. 

Blinking his eyes he looked around, and realized he was standing. But he wasn't in Valhalla – he wasn't anywhere, as far as he knew. He spun around and caught sight of Crawford, who was standing behind him. “What have you done?” 

Crawford smiled. “As one who knows me so well, I'm sure if you looked a bit closer, you could tell where we are.” 

Schuldig didn't understand the comment but did as suggested. Suddenly, in front of him, was a hard case of brushed steel. It looked familiar, and he went forward, touching it with his fingers. He unlocked it and there, sitting inside, was a highly polished silver pistol. He picked it up and suddenly he was hit with a wave of memory. “This is the gun you gave me when I graduated,” he said, and placed the pistol back in the case. He looked back at Crawford and suddenly understood. “I'm inside your head, aren't I?” 

Crawford nodded. “Deeply inside, underneath layers so strong even you would not be able to break through them.” 

Schuldig snorted. “I doubt that.” 

Crawford smirked. “I had to take certain precautions, you understand.” 

At this Schuldig understood. “Heimdall can't hear any of this?” Crawford nodded. “What are we here to discuss?” 

Suddenly two chairs appeared out of nowhere, and Crawford sat down before pointing to the other one. “We're here to discuss the future.” 

Schuldig sat and crossed his arms. “And what does our future hold?” 

Crawford's smirk grew into a full grin. “We are going to become gods.” 

Schuldig was surprised. This was one prediction he had not expected to actually happen. “And how did you manage that?” 

“That is precisely what we are here to discuss. Now listen up, because you are going to be responsible for making all of this happen. There is no room for error, Schuldig. If you fail with any of this, you and I are done.” 

“Dead?” 

“Worse than dead. Servants of the dead.” Crawford's tone was serious, the same one he'd used when he'd told Schuldig of their plans to destroy the Elders two years ago. 

Schuldig frowned, shifting slightly. “Have you seen that?” 

Crawford nodded, “I forced a vision of our failure, and I did not like the result. Therefore you must be prudent, and you must be careful.” 

“If I succeed?” The German sat forward in his chair, leaning on his knees. 

Crawford smiled again. “Then Asgard is ours, for all eternity.” 

* * *

Three days later found three of Schwarz's four members preparing to leave. Crawford alone would remain at Valhalla, while the other three were to set out on a mission to Hel itself. Schuldig and Nagi were going to retrieve Baldr, while Farfarello would be remaining in an attempt to sabotage and undermine the building of the ship Naglfar, by inspecting all newcomers to the underworld and removing toe and fingernails. He would be called back to Asgard when the final battle was set to happen. 

At Crawford's urging, Schuldig had used the time in the precognitive's head to set up a layer of his own mind, where thoughts could formulate away from the prying ears of Heimdall. There he stored Crawford's orders, and it was there that he retreated to when he needed to think and contemplate. He and the American had spoken at length about their plans (Crawford's plans, really, but since he'd neglected to tell either Nagi or Farfarello about them, Schuldig liked to consider them theirs) and about what they needed to do to ensure the future. 

Two days ago Odin had prepared a ceremony, at which he'd declared each of them god-like, granting them powers and access they would require in order to facilitate movement throughout the many realms linked through Yggdrasil, the tree around which all life was centered. He hadn't remembered feeling any different after the ceremony, and had wondered if Odin had really done anything at all. But when they'd returned to Valhalla and he'd sought out his drinking companions, they had congratulated him on being named a god. Perhaps there was nothing more to it than status, of that he would come to find out in the following days. 

For now, though, they prepared for their departure. They would travel to the region of Niflheim by horse, a journey that would take them nine days and nine nights. The way was mapped for them by Hermod, who had made the trek once before in an attempt to retrieve his brother Baldr. 

They would come to the gates of Hel and enter, and there they would find Loki's daughter, Hel herself. It was not a dangerous mission, by any means, at least not this part of it. It was the part afterward that Schuldig was particularly looking forward to.


	3. Chapter 3

By the end of the journey Schuldig had come to realize the difference that came with Odin's blessing. Nine days and nine nights of hard travel, yet he was not tired, and his body did not ache from riding a horse non-stop. He was currently standing at the gates of Hel, the reigns of his horse held tightly in his hand as he waited for admittance. Farfarello stood near him, while Nagi remained on his horse. 

“You know what you are to do when we leave you here, Farfarello?” Schuldig looked beside him at the Irishman, who nodded. 

“I know, and it will be done. Even if I have to leave this place and enter Jotunheim myself to rip apart the ship with my own hands, I will do so. Whatever it takes to ensure failure for he who lies.” 

Schuldig smiled and felt at ease. It had been tough, getting Farfarello to comply, and had included Schuldig setting false memories within the mind of the Irishman. Though he still fought against Crawford, he now thought that Schuldig was also against the American, in that he wanted to take control of the land for himself. The false memories were of Crawford discussing the need for Naglfar, that the ship would transport Hel's dead and frost giants to help the gods battle the sons of Muspell, giants from the land of fire. As long as they kept Farfarello from speaking around others, it was fairly simple to have him believe these falsities. 

“The gate's open.” 

Schuldig looked forward at Nagi's urging, noting that the gate was indeed open. With a smirk on his lips he led his horse into the realm of Loki's daughter, his eyes roaming over the land. It was as one would expect it to be – dark and cold. Though he felt the cold, it did not bother him as it would have had he been mortal still. He led his group further in, walking the path towards Hel's palace, Eljudnir. 

Once there they were greeted by the figure of a woman, stooped over and tired. Her hair was black, her skin sallow, and her dress the dreariest of material and design. She did not have a pleasant demeanor. “Who are you, those three that have come here not by death's design, but of their own will?” 

Schuldig stepped forward. “We are newly appointed gods, sent by Odin to speak with your mistress. We are here to retrieve Odin's son, Baldr.” 

This news did not please her, but she could not turn them away. Everyone who came to seek the ruler of this land would be admitted, and it would be for Hel herself to decide what would be done with them. So she led them into the hall, bidding them to leave their mounts at the steps and that they would be tended to. They walked down a long hallway and she pointed to a room on the right. 

They entered and saw, finally, seated upon a throne of basalt rock, the frightening visage of Hel. “I do not recognize your faces, you who come to me still breathing. Come closer and tell me who you are and what you seek,” she did not move from her throne. 

Schuldig approached first, both intrigued and horrified by the mere look of her, with skin that was half-black, and half-flesh. Her face was twisted in a frown, and her hair was wild and tangled. Through the slits in her dress it was evident that though the upper portion of her body was that of a young woman, the bottom half showed signs of old age and disease, the skin mottled and grey. The mere look of her was nearly putrid. 

“I am Schuldig, appointed a god by the hand of Odin himself.” 

Hel laughed, and her laughter was throaty and grating. “You speak of Odin as though I should respect him,” she fixed the telepath with a slight glare. 

Schuldig did not waver in her line of sight. “Odin is not your concern at the moment. We are here to bring Baldr back to Asgard. You will give him to us.” Not bothering to wait, Schuldig jumped straightaway into her mind, sifting through the murky depths, pulling out every memory he could find of the god. 

“Baldr?” Hel sat up in her throne, her expression growing even more unpleasant. “I have already been through this. He remains here, with me. There is nothing you can offer me to change my mind.” 

“You mistake me for someone who needs to make offers in order to attain results.” Schuldig was surprised at the ease with which he was able to rearrange the woman's head – a result of Odin's blessing, or a sign of Hel's weakness? She was not, after all, a full goddess. 

There was silence for a few minutes as Schuldig worked. Hel did not speak, as though engaged in an internal struggle to retain comprehension of the subject at hand. The struggle was not long lasted, though, and soon there was no memory left of Baldr at all. Hel looked at the telepath, a confused expression on her face. “Were we discussing something?” 

Schuldig smiled and shook his head. “Only that we must be going, but that our friend Farfarello will remain behind with you. He has a request to make of you, but for that he does not need us.” Schuldig sunk back into the shadows, followed by Nagi, as Farfarello approached the throne of the queen of the underworld. 

“Farfarello, is that your name?” Hel looked down at the man standing before her, still slightly muddled from the work of Schuldig. 

Farfarello nodded. “It is.” 

“And what is it you want with me?” 

Farfarello climbed the first step to the throne. “Where do the dead arrive when you receive them?” 

Hel watched as he came closer, intrigued. “Through the front gate.” 

He climbed the second step. “Where is the ship Naglfar?” 

“Docked in Gjoll,” was her answer, and still she regarded him curiously. “Why are you asking?” 

Farfarello frowned. “The ship is not in Jotunheim?” 

“No,” Hel said, “it's not finished being built yet. It will sail to Jotunheim when construction is finished.” 

Farfarello nodded. This news made his job that much easier. “Would you show it to me?” 

Hel frowned. “Why would I do that?” 

“Because I must destroy it.” 

There was silence as Hel contemplated Farfarello's comment. Surely, there was something more to this man than what appeared on the surface? “What makes you think I will allow you to destroy it, when it is my people who build it?” 

“Because destroying the ship will bring about the downfall of Odin and the gods. I am correct in assuming that would be to your liking?” He was now at the top step, and looked down at the still seated figure of Hel. 

“You are wrong on one count, correct on the other,” she spoke, looking up at him. “I hold no love for Odin, but the ship will set sail not to help him, but to bring forth troops to attack him.” 

“You are wrong,” Farfarello replied, shaking his head. “The giants of Jotunheim will ride forth to battle the sons of Muspell, who would see the world rent in flames.” 

Hel reached out, touching Farfarello's hand. “Someone has lied to you. All Jotun seek the destruction of the gods. They do not go to war with one another.” 

Farfarello frowned. That was impossible. He looked down at his hand and saw her fingers pressing lightly into his skin. “I have suffered many lies in my life time.” 

“While I hold no compassion, and show no pity, my friend I can tell you that I do not lie. You have been deceived again.” Hel released his arm and shifted slightly on her throne. 

Farfarello felt the rumblings of rage beginning to stir in his stomach. Who was he to believe? 

“Who sent you here?” 

Farfarello looked down at her and frowned. Schuldig, but he did not want to believe that the telepath had lied. Perhaps it was all a part of a bigger web of deceit perpetrated by Crawford as God? 

“Was it Odin?” 

Farfarello focused the sight of his one golden eye upon her. “A friend of Odin.” 

“Do you consider yourself a friend of Odin?” 

Farfarello shook his head. “I am a friend to no one.” 

Hel regarded him quietly for a moment before speaking. “What if you were a friend to me? It seems as though we both have enemies, and that our enemies are friends.” 

“Which makes the enemies of our enemies our friends,” Farfarello replied, staring down at the woman. 

Hel smiled. 

* * *

Getting Baldr out of Hel was a bit tougher than Schuldig had expected. For one thing – he refused to leave if his wife Nanna could not accompany him. As a second problem, Schuldig could not find their horses. He had no idea where they'd been taken, and he'd sent Nagi off to search for them. 

By the time Nagi had returned (with two horses) Schuldig had relented and told Baldr that they would bring Nanna with them out of Hel. It was a lie, of course, and he was currently trying to persuade both of them that they would indeed be happier on their own. While Nanna's mind had been somewhat easier to turn, Baldr was being a problem. 

“What do you mean you've changed your mind? You are my wife, you go wherever I go!” 

Nanna sat on the steps, hugging her knees. “That is my decision. I do not want to leave.” 

Baldr looked at her in confusion, as though ready to throw her over the horse himself if need be. “But you were desperate to go only minutes ago! I don't understand what could prompt you to change your mind so suddenly! You followed me into Hel, and now you refuse to follow me back out?” He knelt down beside her, taking her hand in his. “Nanna, please, reconsider! You do realize that we will be separated if you remain?” 

“I do,” she pulled her hand out of his. “I am tired, Baldr. I do not wish to make the trip back to Asgard.” 

As Baldr continued to confront his wife, Schuldig wished he'd been able to manage a cleaner break between the two. He knew it was slightly sloppy, this sudden change of heart and mind. But then he supposed it didn't really matter much anyway, not for where Baldr was going. If need dictated, he would simply have Nagi force Baldr away from Nanna, and keep him under restraint until they reached their next destination. 

He quickly made his way to Nagi, taking the reigns of one horse. “I'm having a little trouble with him,” was all he managed to get out before Nagi shook his head and approached the pair. 

“Baldr, we're leaving now.” Nagi stood before the pair, ready to force the god onto the horse. To his surprise, that wouldn't be necessary. Baldr strode forward and grasped the reigns out of Nagi's hands, mounting the horse. 

Nagi and Schuldig shot each other furtive glances, surprised at Baldr's sudden retreat. Schuldig mounted the other horse first, and helped Nagi up behind him. They both glanced back at Nanna, who remained seated on the steps, before heading off after Baldr. 

Noticing that they had finally caught up, Baldr looked at Schuldig and sighed. “Women,” he said, in a sad tone, “they confuse me! Do you think I should go back for her?” 

Schuldig shook his head. “No, she has made her decision. Besides, we are on a tight schedule. We must return to Asgard as soon as possible.” He slid into Baldr's mind, trying in vain to influence the god to leave his wife behind without a second thought. 

Baldr still struggled with him, though he did not turn back. They rode on, and Schuldig hoped they would encounter no more trouble. He'd been so preoccupied with Baldr that he had not thought to check in on Farfarello before leaving him behind. 

* * *

“Where are we going? I thought you said we were headed for Asgard,” Baldr questioned Schuldig, feeling ill at ease. 

“We are, there is just somewhere we must stop first.” They were nearing the area now, and in the distance Schuldig could make out a large figure moving in the shadows, coiling and uncoiling, slithering its length around the branches of a tree. And there, underneath, tended to by his wife, was Loki. 

Make sure he follows us, Nagi, Schuldig knew he would not be able to control Baldr when he noticed the being who'd caused his brother to loose the arrow that killed him, so it was really best to have Nagi forcibly keep him here. There was no response from the telekinetic, but when Schuldig next glanced at Baldr, he noticed him sitting perfectly erect upon his horse, his eyes wild but his mouth clamped firmly shut. Schuldig smiled. 

They neared the tree under which Loki had been imprisoned, and first met the eyes of his wife Sigyn. She sat near her husband, a bowl held out in her hands, catching the venom that dripped from the fang of the snake. She eyed them curiously, clearly not expecting any company. 

“Who goes there?” 

Schuldig dismounted from his horse and walked over to her, extending a hand to take the bowl from her. She seemed reluctant to let it go. “It's alright, Sigyn, allow me to take over for a moment. Your arm must be tired. Allow me to hold the bowl while I discuss some matters with your husband.” She nodded and sat back, watchful though as Schuldig indeed continued to hold the bowl and catch the venom. 

“I do not know your face, friend, tell me your name?” Loki eyed the German curiously from his place upon the rock, upon which he was bound by three shackles. 

“Schuldig, a newly appointed god picked by Odin himself.” 

Loki's eyes narrowed, and a bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Odin! And he sends you here to me? Are you here to bring forth my death?” 

Schuldig shook his head and smiled. “No. I am here to offer you a deal.” 

Loki's head tilted slightly, and it was then that he turned his head to see Nagi and Baldr. His eyes grew large at the sight of the god he'd had killed. “Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Baldr?” 

“Your eyes see clearly. Now focus your attention on me, friend, so that I might make you the offer.” 

“And what will you do if I refuse your offer?” Loki turned his head again to face Schuldig. 

“Kill Baldr and leave you here. It would be much less troublesome, however, if you were to comply.” He leaned down over the god, his fingers touching Loki's temple. The god bristled at his touch, but then was still. Schuldig had drawn him into his mind, much the same way he had been drawn into Crawford's. In this setting, Loki was no longer chained, and he stood, looking around him. 

“What trickery is this, friend? Where have you brought me?” 

Schuldig grinned and folded his arms over his chest. “That's not important right now. Just know that here is a plane upon which no one can overhear us.” 

Loki laughed. “Why the need? Did you not know that none can overhear me? None can see me? Why do you think I have gotten away with so much in my lifetime? Neither Heimdall nor Odin knew of my exploits when I roamed free!” 

“Of course, but what good does that do you now, chained to a rock?” Schuldig was patient as Loki stretched his limbs and moved freely around. “But you are wrong, however, on one thing.” 

“Oh? And what's that?” Loki returned to his side, peering curiously into Schuldig's eyes. 

“I can hear you. Your thoughts flow to me as plain as day.” 

“Impossible! I have created a cloud around me, impenetrable to any and all who seek to gain knowledge of my thoughts and actions!” Loki was not pleased, and fixed the telepath with a glare. 

Schuldig, however, remained calm (though he wanted to gloat and harass the god into compliance). “Allow me to demonstrate, will you?” Loki frowned and grumbled, but accepted. 

“If you fail, though, you must release me!” 

Schuldig smiled in return. “If you listen, you will see that it is within my plans to release you anyway. But first we must discuss what you will do for me.” At that he had the god's attention, and he continued. “We who have come here from Midgard are a group of four, who were summoned by prophecies of our own to offer aid to the gods during the events of Ragnarok.” Loki frowned at this comment, but Schuldig pushed on. “We have decided, however, that we do not wish to aid the gods. We will appear to, but when the end approaches, we will turn on them and take Asgard for ourselves.” 

Loki crossed his arms and pondered the thought. “And where does that leave me?” 

“We would like to make you ruler. You have been done an injustice by those who have bound you here, and we would like to be of aid in repaying them for their misdeeds.” 

“And why not simply keep Asgard for yourselves? Why do you need me?” 

Schuldig did not rush his explanation, knowing that this was their only chance of swaying the trickster god to their side. “We are new gods, Loki, only recently given rank. Only a week ago, we were mortals from Midgard. We know what happens to lands when those new in power take them. They fail. We need a ruler with experience, who knows each of the nine worlds connected by Yggdrasil.” 

“But why me? You have Baldr, why not him?” 

“Our positions as gods are contingent upon his successful return to his parents. That is the sole reason why we have taken him from Hel.” 

Loki was still confused. “But with Baldr, you return one of their own to the gods. Surely that will sway momentum in their favour still?” 

Schuldig smiled, the same way he was used to seeing Crawford smile when releasing the final bit of information that would settle their plans. “It would, were we bringing him back.” 

“But I thought you said...” Loki trailed off, curious eyes still fixed to Schuldig, looking as though he were struggling to piece together this puzzle. 

“We will leave Baldr here, and bring you back.” 

Realization dawned upon the god's face, and he smiled. “I will be Baldr.” 

“Yes.” Schuldig felt his stomach muscles cramp from having to keep his excitement from showing. The plan was working! 

“When will I show my true self?” 

“This we must now discuss. If you'd like to have a seat?” He pointed to two chairs that had appeared. They were not as nice as the ones Crawford could conjure, but then the American had been practicing this ability of drawing others into his mind for much longer than Schuldig had.

* * *

Though they had spoken for hours, the trance-like state that had overcome the two on the ground only appeared to last seconds to any who watched. Schuldig motioned to Nagi. “He has agreed. Come, and bring Baldr.” 

Nagi dismounted from the horse and moved over towards where Loki lay upon the rock. The horse carrying Baldr approached them as well, and stopped before Schuldig. Nagi leaned down to examine the bonds that kept Loki in place. “How are we going to do this?” He looked over at the German, who grinned and knew exactly what he asked by that question. 

“We've been blessed, so it seems! Loki has created a cloud around him, so that we can neither be seen nor heard, when with him.” 

Nagi's eyes widened in intrigue upon hearing that. “Well, that makes things much simpler.” He touched the shackles with his fingers. “I thought these were made of the entrails of your son?” 

“They were, but they turned to steel.” Loki pulled at the shackles, showing their strength and durability. 

“That's of no concern, I suppose.” He fixed his eyes on the ring that held Loki's right hand, and concentrated. The steel was tougher than that to be found in their land, but eventually it gave way, snapping open. Loki pulled his hand from it and stared, transfixed. 

“How did you do that? You wield no weapon!” 

Nagi did not respond, instead concentrating and snapping open the remaining bonds. Loki did not need to be told to move. Springing forward from the rock, he stood and massaged his wrists. Schuldig laid the bowl on the rock, and moved toward the horse upon which Baldr sat. 

With Loki watching, the German pulled the god down from the horse and sat him upon the rock where Loki had just been. Holding the bowl back up again, Schuldig watched as Nagi snapped the bonds on Baldr's wrists, securing him to the rock. He released Baldr from the imposed paralysis he'd placed him under and stepped back, watching as the god thrashed and tested the steel rings that now held him, while his murderer stood free. 

“Release me! When Odin hears of this treachery-” 

“And who will tell him?” Schuldig stood to the side, and moved the bowl slightly, allowing one drop of the serpent's poison to hit Baldr on the forehead, causing him to scream and thrash anew. He quickly moved the bowl back. “You have shown me that you are unable to cooperate fully, Baldr. Therefore I regret to inform you that I must leave you here, but that I will not leave you intact.” 

“What do you mean?” Baldr glared at Schuldig, who smiled in return. 

“I cannot take a chance that Heimdall will hear your cries for help, so I must destroy your mind.” He knelt beside him, a predatory look on his face. He let go of the bowl to concentrate better, and Baldr flinched, expecting a cascade of venomous liquid to fall over his face. But it was held in place by Nagi, and so Schuldig began rifling through the mind of Odin's favoured son, destroying the memories, destroying the patterns of thought. It took some time, since the god had been living for many years, but eventually there was nothing left but a blank hole, and Baldr was empty. Schuldig stood back and leaned against the horse. 

They were going to win. 

* * *

“How will we deal with Fenrir? Though I had come to accept my fate, if it can indeed be avoided then I do not wish to be swallowed by the wolf.” Odin sat with Crawford, still working out the events of Ragnarok. 

“It can be avoided,” Crawford answered, “and Vidar will need to act swiftly. He must be ready to meet the wolf as he breaks free of his chains. Freyr will accompany him.” 

“Will he not be needed to battle Surtr?” Odin asked, contemplative. 

“Remember, Surtr and his fire jotnar will not cross the Bifrost. Nagi will handle them.” 

Odin nodded. “Right, that is correct. So Freyr and Vidar will set forth immediately to the place in which Fenrir has been chained.” 

Crawford nodded, “Yes, that would be best. He will be released before they meet him, but together the two will see the great wolf perish.” 

“You have seen this?” 

“I have.” Crawford met Odin's eyes, and spoke to him in a calm but assertive manner. 

Odin sat back in his chair, his hand stroking his chin. “I am grateful towards whatever force of nature has brought you to my land, Crawford. Perhaps it was Yggdrasil herself, providing aid to those who work hard to see her thrive.” 

“Perhaps,” Crawford replied, taking a sip from a glass of wine. Perhaps not, he thought. 

* * *

Farfarello stood at the dock beside Hel, watching as her people filed onto the ship, battle-ready and eager to be off. He and Hel had grown close quickly, hatching their own plan to bring about the destruction of their enemies. In place of Loki, Farfarello would sail the ship Naglfar to the plains of Vigridr, stopping along the way to pick up Hrym and the frost jotnar. 

He had proposed his plan to Hel in which he would ensure that Schuldig would be named ruler of Asgard, and Hel surprised him by disagreeing. “Do you not want the realm for yourself?” She'd asked, and he'd pondered the thought a moment before responding. 

“No,” he'd said, “I will not live among the land where my enemy was created and where he flourished,” he'd told her, much preferring to return here, to join her in ruling the dead. She told him to do as he wished, and that should he return, he would be welcome to remain. 

And so now he watched as the ship was packed, and he turned to Hel. “I will avenge the wrong that was committed against you, as I shall too avenge the wrong that was committed against me.” 

Hel nodded and touched his face. “I wish for your swift success, and hope you will bring us new subjects when you return to me.” 

Farfarello nodded. “I will do that.” Then he left her on the dock, and boarded the ship. He stood behind the wheel, looking out into the roiling waters that stretched before him and between the lands. His time was approaching. All gods would suffer and perish at his hand. 

* * *

The following day saw Vidar and Freyr set off for the island of Lyngvi, that place where Fenrir was bound. Crawford had stood at Odin's side as he sent them off, watching as they rode away over the plains. They then returned to the hall, intent on hammering out a few more potential problems. When they sat back two hours later, with everything planned for and plotted, they picked up their glasses of wine and Odin made a toast to their success. As they drank from the glasses, though, a sound blasted through the room that made them stop. 

Gullinkambi crowed. 

Odin looked up into the face of Crawford. “And so it begins.” 

* * *

They were still a day away from Asgard, but Schuldig had sensed that perhaps something was amiss. 

“Do you feel it too?” Nagi asked him, “a stirring in the air?” 

“As though the end of the world was near?” Schuldig replied, and nodded. 

“It is the shaking of Yggdrasil, my friends. The great tree feels the coming of war, and worries that her lands will be torn asunder!” Beside them rode Loki, who'd overheard their exchange and butted in with an explanation. 

Schuldig nodded. “Has it begun?” 

Loki shrugged. “Who can say for certain anymore? With your arrival, things have changed. The final battle will not occur as it was foretold to occur, but in a different way, with different outcomes.” 

“As long as we arrive before the battle begins so that Odin may see you as Baldr, then I'm not concerned about anything else,” Schuldig spoke, urging his horse on. 

“Then my friends, let us make haste, for we are not far from the lands of my brethren!” Loki spurred his horse, leading Schuldig and Nagi. Though he'd wanted to remain as his normal self until they reached the gods, Schuldig had bade Loki to transform into Baldr and remain as the slain son of Odin. He would not risk anyone seeing the god for who he truly was. 

* * *

Farfarello stood on the bridge, feeling frosty water splash over his cheeks and soak his hair. It did not bother him, of course, as it never had before. They were approaching the dock in Jotunheim, and from here he could see Hrym and his people waiting in a line. The giants were not as large as he had been expecting, but still of significant size to make them useful in the battle. He would speak with Hrym, and ensure the Jotun leader had the same outcome in mind for the battle. 

If his ideals differed, and they were not to Farfarello's liking, then he would have no choice but to kill the giant himself, and hope that it would send a message to his people that there was to be only one captain on this crew, and it would be him. 

* * *

The following morning found Crawford being awoken by the sound of a loud horn, and he knew, then, that the beginning of Ragnarok was set. He was worried slightly that Schuldig and Nagi had still not returned. Closing his eyes and concentrating, he tried once more to force a vision of when they would arrive. His last three attempts had been unsuccessful, and he'd found that slightly bothersome. 

This morning proved differently, though. A brief glimpse was all he needed to see. He stood up and made his way out of the room and towards the room of Odin. Halfway there the god emerged from the doors, glancing to his right and seeing Crawford. 

“You remember our agreement, don't you?” Odin spoke gravely, and did not even need to mention what this morning signified. 

“I do, and I have news. Though they are not here yet, Schuldig will bring Baldr to us when we meet at the well of Urdarbrunn. I have seen it,” he explained, and felt relieved when the god smiled. 

“Wonderful! To ride into battle with my son at my side! Surely deceitful Loki will recoil when he sees this.” Odin returned to his room, bidding Crawford to follow him. “For now, though, I must dress in my armor. Frigg, if you would help?” 

The goddess, who was already assembling the suit on their bed, nodded. “Of course, everything is prepared for you already, husband.” 

Crawford watched as the golden armor was slid over the god's body, and his thoughts lay in their plans. If things went according to the vision he'd received, in exactly five hours time Vidar and Freyr would be meeting Fenrir upon the rocks, and there they would do battle with the monstrous wolf. Crawford had not bothered to tell Odin that while Vidar would survive the struggle as was foretold, Freyr would not, and would take the place of Odin in Fenrir's belly. 

There were many things he did not tell Odin. 

* * *

Farfarello stood on the deck, exactly where he'd been standing throughout the journey, looking out over the water, waiting anxiously for a sign of land. It should not be too far off now, according to the maps. Hrym had boarded with his people and had spoken with Farfarello. The leader of the giants agreed with Farfarello's proposals of slaughtering all gods, and saw no reason for them to quarrel. He had since retreated below deck with his people, and Farfarello remained up top, hands firmly gripping the rail in case of a big wave. 

“Farfarello!” 

He looked over his shoulder, to see the man he'd left in charge of steering the ship calling to him. 

“Yes?” 

“If you look through the telescope, you will see Asgard on the horizon!” 

Farfarello moved finally, walking across the deck to climb the ladder up to the captain's chamber. Entering, he took the telescope that was offered and put it to his eye, staring through it in the direction the man had pointed. 

He gasped in a mixture of shock and delight – they were close! “How long until we land?” 

“Not long, perhaps an hour.” 

Farfarello smiled. 

* * *

“Should we keep to the foretold events, then? Will the outcomes differ?” Thor posed the question – obviously curious if he himself would survive his fated battle with the serpent Jormungandr. 

“For the most part, yes. There will be no ship setting sail to bring forth the frost jotun, for it has been dismantled by Farfarello. Likewise, Hel's troops will not arrive upon our shore. Loki will still find his way here, though he will come later than expected. Fenrir is being dispatched now by Freyr and Vidar.” 

“And the sons of Muspel? Will they reach our shores?” The one handed god Tyr asked. 

“No, they will not reach the Bifrost bridge. They will be entombed in stone upon the other side.” Odin answered, a smile on his face. “So the bridge will not break.” 

“What of the wolf, Garmr?” 

“He will be killed by Farfarello.” 

“So then we do not have many foes to worry ourselves with, do we?” Thor asked. 

“No, my son, we do not.” Odin smiled at the group. 

Throughout the exchange Crawford kept his eyes on the mountain range that separated Jotunheim from Midgard, and kept his ears peeled for that German accented voice. Towards the end of the conversation, it was heard finally. He turned to Odin. 

“I apologize for interrupting, but if you turn your head to the west, there may you feast your eyes upon your son, returned from Hel.” He pointed in the general direction that the two horses were approaching from, and felt relief flood through him when he saw Schuldig's mane of red hair flying behind him, no doubt causing Nagi great nuisance. 

The gods exclaimed of this surprise and watched, transfixed, as the horses approached. Before them, on a horse of purest white, sat Baldr, son of Odin, beloved brother to the gods of Asgard. 

“Baldr! Surely our eyes deceive us! How can this be?” Hermod was the first to advance, curious as to how this pair had secured his release. 

“Brother Hermod, it is like water to the parched earth, the vision of you!” Loki descended from the horse, clasping the god's outstretched arms. “But where is my father?” 

Odin stepped forward, his face nearly split in two from the smile it sported. “Baldr! Though Crawford assured me of our reunion, my heart did not believe it! You arrive just in time for our success,” Odin clasped Baldr in a tight embrace, his hand reaching out to pat the god's hair. “It's a shame your mother will not see you until this is all over, but what a joyous reunion it shall make!” 

Crawford strode forward to meet with Schuldig and Nagi, his eyes locking on the German. “I was worried you wouldn't make it in time,” he smiled. 

Schuldig grinned back at him. “But we did, and everything is set.” 

“Everything?” Crawford shot him a knowing look, one that asked more than the question he'd uttered from his mouth. 

Schuldig nodded, fully aware of all implications. “Everything.” 

Smiling and turning then to Nagi, Crawford reached out a hand to grasp the Japanese youth's shoulder, an odd gesture for him. “You've performed well, but now it is time for you to be off with Heimdall.” 

Nagi nodded, though he found himself slightly confused by Crawford's words. The American had said he'd performed well. He'd not done anything, though. But that was not really important, as he did need to leave with Heimdall. He bid the American goodbye, and turned to seek out his companion god. 

Crawford felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to look at Schuldig, who was grinning. Without mention of it, he pulled the German into that perfectly crafted spot buried in the deep recess of his head. 

“And why do you look so pleased, Schuldig?” 

The German shrugged. “Excitement, I suppose. You should know, though, that I had to erase all memory of this from Nagi's head. While I don't believe he would slip up, he will be alone with Heimdall, and a thought may slip out that could send us all to our deaths. Or worse, if you'd seen what they'd done to Loki.” 

Crawford frowned. “I supposed that couldn't be avoided. What have you done with Baldr?” 

“He's lying in place of Loki, being tended to by Sigyn. She agreed to remain there until such time came that the bonds would break on their own. She wanted to come with Loki, of course, but she understood what that would mean for all of us.” 

Crawford nodded. “That's good.” 

“Baldr is no longer himself, though, I'm afraid. I had no choice but to destroy him, though of course leave him breathing. There is nothing left in his head.” 

Crawford grinned, pleased with that news. “You gave this all a lot of thought. I'm impressed.” 

Schuldig shrugged again. “I believe you happen to be wearing off on me.” 

* * *

Nagi crossed the remainder of the Bifrost bridge with Heimdall, and they were accompanied by Hoenir and Vali, along with a host of warriors from Valhalla. Odin had decided that instead of simply encasing the fire jotun, he would send an army to destroy them before they ever made it to the bridge. Crawford had agreed, and had told the god that the decision was a wise one. 

His vision though told him otherwise. All of Odin's warriors would fall in combat to the giants, and the only ones who would survive were Nagi, and Heimdall. By the time Odin would come to see this, though, it would be too late. 

Nagi remained upon Gulltoppr, the horse belonging to Heimdall (whom he had shared with the god on their way to the other side of the Bifrost). They were not, as he'd expected, back in Lapland. Instead, as Heimdall had explained to him, they were on a plain that connected Midgard to Muspelheim, the land of the fire jotun. This plane existed so it would never be necessary for the giants to enter Midgard itself if they wished to access the bridge. The idea confused him, since he'd thought that the fire jotun were never intended to cross the bridge anyway, so he did not understand why anyone would make concessions for them to do so. 

Heimdall walked at the head of the group, leading the warriors forward, ever closer to the land of fire. Suddenly, on the horizon, their enemies were spotted. 

Nagi remained calm and watched the group as it surged forward, eager they were to engage the giants in combat and therefore alter the course of fate. His eyes searched for the leader, Surtr, for he had a mission of his own to undertake. Their success depended upon it. 

* * *

Farfarello was back at the head of the ship, his crew surrounding him. There before them lay the shores of Vigridr, and around his ship the water surged, and as he looked down he saw the massive body of the world serpent, Jormungandr, as it bore them forward upon his back. 

Destiny was upon them, and he would meet his enemy in combat finally. His face was twisted with rapturous passion, and he clasped the sword that Hel had given him as a present to demonstrate their friendship before he'd left. He would be victorious, of that much he was certain. 

The God Crawford would fall, and it would be by Farfarello's hand. 

* * *

Crawford stood beside Odin, and Schuldig stood beside the American, and together they watched as a ship sailed toward the shore of Vigridr. Crawford had not seen this. 

_Do you think Farfarello failed?_  Crawford could not comprehend how he had not foreseen this. Perhaps he'd been concentrating too hard upon everything else? 

_Not exactly_ , Schuldig answered, feeling for a moment as though he did not want to tell Crawford all of the details.  _He's sailing the ship._

Crawford tensed, and continued staring ahead. _What exactly do you mean, he's sailing the ship?_

Schuldig frowned, as he listened in on the thoughts that were now close enough for him to hear.  _He and Hel have devised a plan of their own. He comes to see you put to death._

Crawford was silent as he pondered this news. How would he present this to Odin? How could he cover up for his mistake?  _Fuck_ , was his only answer to the German. 

Schuldig could not help but grin, though he knew this day would likely see the death of one of the two people he considered himself closest to. His biggest problem, though, was choosing which one he would support. 

* * *

Farfarello watched, safe from his vantage point upon the ship, as Thor surged out to the river, intent on nothing more than meeting his foe in battle. The Irishman had to keep from jumping over the side of the ship himself, wanting nothing more than to plunge his sword through the heart of the God he so despised. They engaged in battle, and Farfarello watched as more of Odin's warriors surged forward, lashing out towards the great serpent, quick to come to the aid of the god of thunder, before the ship crashed upon the shore and spilled out the giants and warriors of the underworld. 

He glanced along the beach, searching out the one he himself wished to do battle with. 

_Farfarello_ ; instead he heard a voice in his mind. 

_Schuldig_ , he responded, searching the beach anew for his friend. 

_Have you changed your mind, then? Who do you bring forth upon your ship?_

_He has lied to us both, Schuldig! The frost jotnar and warriors of Hel do not seek to see Odin put upon the throne, but they seek his destruction!_

_Really? Who did you hear this from?_

_Hel has told me. She has imparted to me much knowledge. We are united in our common enemy, she and I!_

_I see,_ Schuldig replied.  _Would you like me to leave Crawford alive for you?_

_Yes._

* * *

Nagi sat astride Gulltoppr, and rode out to meet Surtr, armed with nothing but his telekinetic skill. All around him the warriors were fighting with the frost giants, for there were many more jotun than there were Einherjar. Heimdall himself took on three jotun at once. 

Nagi turned his attention to Surtr. The giant stood before him, a gleaming sword held aloft in his grip, shouting some words that Nagi chose to ignore. Not bothering to look to his own safety, he concentrated his power upon the giant, flying inside the being's body, traveling along his veins and through to his heart. There the telekinetic focused his power, and within seconds the lord of the frost jotnar fell to the ground, his heart exploded within his chest. 

Nagi floated the gleaming sword to his own hand, a smile upon his lips. Neither god nor mythical being could prove to be a match for his own power. 

* * *

_He means to destroy you, you know_ , Schuldig stood beside Crawford, watching as the ship broke upon the shore and hundreds of dead warriors spilled out to meet the warriors awaiting them on the beach. 

_I realize that, thank you_ , Crawford replied. 

_What do you want me to do?_  Schuldig was still conflicted, but preferred to weigh his options before casting his ballot. 

_Let him come for me. Don't concern yourself._

Schuldig thought the American underestimate Farfarello's power, but he did not bother saying so.  _As you wish_. 

* * *

Nagi did not wield the sword that he held, but instead utilized his power, breaking the bodies of the jotun with mind alone. No fire would cross the Bifrost today. He looked around him, witnessing the carnage. Vali lay upon the ground, his body pierced many times over by the fiery rods of the sons of Muspell. Hoenir himself was cornered by five of the giants, and Nagi watched as they cut off his head. He could do nothing else but snap their necks, watching as all five fell in succession. 

Many of their warriors lay dead upon the ground, and Nagi focused his powers upon the living jotun, watching as they fell and looking around for more. 

His eyes met those of Heimdall, who was still standing. The god motioned toward the bridge, and Nagi understood. He drove Gulltoppr toward the Bifrost, and it was there that he waited for Heimdall, who leapt up behind him. 

Looking back out toward the fiery plain that separated Muspelheim from Midgard, he called forth the stone from the mountain of Asgard, and sent it crashing down upon the remainder of the fire jotun's army. 

Bifrost was safe. 

* * *

The American and the German remained behind the line of combat, surveying the field and watching as Thor battled the world serpent. Already the fight had lasted longer than it should have, but it would soon end. Thor smashed his hammer down upon the serpent's mouth, cracking teeth and sending them spraying out over the land. Odin and Loki had since departed, riding out together into the midst of the battle. 

Odin was at Tyr's side, aiding him as he battled the wolf Garmr, who had been the first being to leap from the side of the ship Naglfar. The beast was ferocious, and had already killed twenty warriors before Tyr had reached him. 

Currently he had his jaws clamped over the head of Tyr, and hoisted the god into the air, shaking him from side to side, until finally he threw the body into the water, where the god proceeded to drown. He was left to face Odin, who drove his spear into the side of Garmr's neck. The beast plummeted to the ground, thrashing in pain. 

Everything was going according to Crawford's plan still, even though Farfarello had shown up with the ship. 

* * *

Nagi spurred Gulltoppr forward, into the heart of the battle. He felt Heimdall slip off behind him, and rounded his course, making his way toward the rear of the field.  _Schuldig?_

_I see you, keep coming straight, you'll find us_ ; the telepath watched as Nagi burst through the ranks of warriors and came to stop before them. 

Dismounting from the horse, Nagi produced a gleaming sword. “From the hands of Surtr, as requested,” he offered the sword to Crawford, who took it with a smile. 

Holding it in his hands, Crawford did not fear even the unpredictability of Farfarello. He had in his hands a sword that would fight battles on its own. What more could he possibly require? 

* * *

Farfarello strode forward onto the beach, his eyes drawn toward the battle that was occurring directly before him. Thor battled the world serpent Jormungandr, and all around them lay littered bodies of the freshly dead. He paused for a moment, watching as Thor plunged his sword through the head of the serpent. Jormungandr fell upon the sand, and for a moment it appeared as though Thor was victorious. But nine steps in and the god collapsed, as was foretold. 

Farfarello continued forward. He cleaved his way through warriors, brandishing a path toward his own destination. God would fall today, and Farfarello would stand victorious. 

* * *

Crawford watched as, in the distance, Thor fell to the serpent. All around him, the war was being waged on an even level. For every warrior of Hel that fell, so too did a warrior of the gods. Before him stood the figure of Heimdall, a questioning look upon his face. Perhaps he had spoken too hastily in his mind before the god? 

Before he has a chance to question, though, a sword drove through the neck of the guardian deity. Heimdall fell, and behind him stood Loki, still disguised as Baldr. 

Odin stopped at the death, his eyes upon what he believed to be his son. “What trickery is this?” He cried, “that my own son bring about the death of he who was believed to be our own last warrior?” 

Suddenly the face of Baldr changed, and there was shown the face of Loki. “I have killed my last enemy, Odin. Would you consent to face me now?” The trickster god danced over the corpse of his enemy, and Odin emerged, enraged. 

“I challenge you to death, mongrel!” He held aloft his spear, and Loki held his sword, and together they circled one another, while Crawford watched. Still holding the powerful sword in his hands, he did not fear the outcome of this battle. He would face and depose whoever emerged victorious. 

* * *

Nagi stood beside Schuldig, his powers creating a barrier between them and the warriors who surrounded them.  _What is supposed to be the outcome of this?_  Nagi asked. 

Schuldig replied,  _I believe we are awaiting the moment when Odin kills Loki_ , he answered,  _and after that, Crawford will kill Odin_. 

Nagi nodded. It appeared simple enough. 

* * *

Farfarello found himself detained momentarily, engaged in a struggle for battle he had not anticipated. The newly arrived Vidar, who had slain Fenrir but watched as Freyr died, had charged upon the shores of Vigridr. There he met the sword of Farfarello, as it twisted and turned and carved out his heart. 

The Irishman continued forward, searching only for Crawford. His eyes caught the movement of red hair in the distance, and he surged forward, certain that where Schuldig dwelt, so too did Crawford. 

* * *

_He's coming_ , Schuldig warned, his eyes scanning the crowded plain before him for a sign of the Irishman. 

_Let him come_ , Crawford responded, not worried. He had the sword, and he had the telepath, and so too did he have the telekinetic. Farfarello would do him no harm. 

_As you wish_ , Schuldig replied, standing to the side as he watched the crowd around him. He saw Nagi off to the right, his eyes also watchful. He then glanced toward the center of the plain, where Odin still battled Loki.  _Would you like us to end this, given that Farfarello is near?_  He asked Crawford curiously. 

_Though I long to say no, perhaps that is a wise decision. Kill Loki_ , Crawford answered, as his eyes watched the pair before him struggle. 

Schuldig did not answer, but instead spoke words of advice to Nagi, who concentrated upon the body of Loki, forcing it still as the spear of Odin's met it and plunged through. 

Odin watched as his nemesis fell to the ground. “Who else, then, will challenge me?” All around him the cheers of those warriors still living swelled. 

Crawford stepped forward. “You have lived for too long,” he said, before releasing the sword he held aloft, and watching as it plunged into the chest of the god. Odin fell at his feet. 

* * *

Farfarello watched as Odin fell, and felt a surge of excitement course through his body. Only one god to defeat now! He pushed and shoved and cleaved his way forward, until he stood before Crawford. The God offered him a smug look, and Farfarello frowned. He would wipe the God's face clean. 

Crawford at last saw Farfarello advance upon him, and he set his sword in front of him, commanding it to meet any blows or parries of his enemy. He and Farfarello circled one another, and eventually the Irishman ended up underneath him, and Crawford stopped his blade just before it reached the Irishman's throat. 

“Farfarello,” he spoke, “it appears as though we are at a crossroads.” 

Farfarello narrowed his one good eye, glaring at Crawford. “You and I never stop before any barrier!” 

Crawford laughed. “It is unfortunate your psychosis has finally taken hold of you. You could have been useful,” he said, before plunging his sword deep into the heart of the Irishman. “May Hel still accept you, though you are now half a man.” He pulled it out and held it high, for all the masses to see. 

Asgard was his. 

* * *

In the following days Crawford grabbed Asgard by the throat, asserting his brand of dominance over the realm and its people. Of those who did not fall during battle, Crawford ordered the deaths of Frigg and Freya, and made the remainder of those gods and goddesses swear upon their lives that they would follow him. 

Nagi moved into the vacated palace of Himinbjorg, taking up Heimdall's position as guardian of the Bifrost. Though he did not possess the auditory skills of his predecessor, Schuldig was able to communicate with him easily from atop the mountain. This set up suited the three of them fine. Crawford and Schuldig enjoyed ruling the realm, while Nagi preferred silence and privacy. 

Crawford kept the head of Mimir in his new study, seeking advice on it about the lands and races that still lived. He named Schuldig as his first in command, and gave him the warriors to oversee. It was a position that the telepath enjoyed immensely, and over time those who remained still in Asgard grew to forgive the German for his part in the treachery. After all, he had only been following orders, they'd told themselves, and he was really quite pleasant to deal with, if you did as he asked. 

Upon his death, Farfarello had been returned to Hel, who would have wept at his death had she been capable of tears. As it was, she did welcome him back and afforded him a place beside her on her throne, and a spot beside her in her bed. Though he was no longer alive, he was still among the living dead, and that was enough for her. 

* * *

A month had passed since the time of the great betrayal, and it was the end of another day. Crawford had left Schuldig in the hall with the men, drinking mead and gnawing on ribs. He returned to his room, and prepared for bed. He was planning to travel to Vanaheim tomorrow to visit with Njord, the god he'd named ruler of that realm. Together they planned to speak with the frost jotun, to come to terms of agreement for a truce. Crawford did not believe any such truce would be held binding by the giants, but it looked rather good to his people, that he attempted to broach peace with such hateful creatures that populated the lands of their enemies. 

After he dealt with them, he planned to enslave the dwarfs. 

Climbing into his bed, he laid his head upon his pillow and closed his eyes, opening his mind to allow for any visions that happened to come to him. He recoiled suddenly as he saw the frightful face of Hel, staring at him from above. Opening his eyes he found that breath would not come to him, and looked down, only to see the end of a long knife protruding from his chest. 

“Did you think I would not return?” The voice of Farfarello spoke into his ear, tinged with malice and hatred. “You who has given me nothing but lies and deceit, pain and death! Now comes my rebuttal. Now you journey to my realm, and there you shall call me master!” The knife slid out of him, and Crawford fell back, choking as blood came to his throat. 

This was not happening! How had he not seen this? How had this vision escaped him? 

“Shocking, isn't it?” 

He looked towards the door, his expression taking on a note of confusion as he stared into the face of the German. Schuldig grinned and leaned against the door. 

“I took a consensus among the warriors, Crawford,” he fixed the American with a gaze that wasn't quite pity, but also wasn't quite hateful either. “The people don't like you, and they called for something to be done.” 

Crawford struggled for breath, coughing blood onto his chest. His lips formed the telepath's name, but they would not speak it. 

Schuldig came closer, leaning over him so his face was inches away. “This is why you should never trust a murderer, Brad. Eventually, he tires of you, and has you killed. Enjoy eternity in Hel, asshole.” With that he leaned forward and kissed Crawford's forehead, before turning to Farfarello.

“There, now you have your Heavenly Father.”

Farfarello smiled. “And you have the pledge of my army.”

“Wonderful,” Schuldig replied, as he turned to leave the room.

All he'd ever wanted in life was a little fun and excitement, a little violence and murder. He'd never expected to get a whole world.


End file.
